An Inexplicable Thread
by elle.writes
Summary: For years now, Duo has been plagued with visions of a mysterious man he is forced to paint. Meanwhile, Heero is returning from undercover field work to a life of nothingness. But they will soon learn they are more entwined then they know... AU, 1x2, warnings at top.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** An Inexplicable Thread

**Pairings/Warnings:** 1x2, AU in modern day, language, extensive drug use, my poor understanding of the military, CIA, and Yakuza, likely it'll get pretty smutty at times but I'm not certain how long it'll take to get there. I'll put an individual warning on the chapter!

**Notes:** I'm trying something a little different with the POVs in this. I normally stick to third person POV but only follow one character's thoughts. In this story, some chapters are going to be half Duo's POV and half Heero's POV. Then others, when they're together, are going to be a mixture. We'll see how it works out. I'm a bit nervous about it because I frankly despise mixed POVs as I find them contrived and unrealistic, BUT I can't see any way around it so here goes nothing.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters from Gundam Wing (unfortunately) and they were used without permission, but all the words are my own.

* * *

Duo felt like his entire body was shaking but the paint kept plastering on the canvas with perfect, steady strokes. Even as he felt the high winding down he knew he had no control over it. When it hit him like this, he was a man possessed. He had to finish the scene.

It had been like this, off and on, for a few years now. Sometimes he wanted it to stop, when it happened too fast, when every time he slammed he was forced into this frenzy of creativity. But when it did stop, sometimes for a few months, he found himself longing for it back, staring at his past works, begging for it one more time to see that face before the rush overtook him.

When it hit him like this, the way no normal hit would, it was always the same, always the same subject. A handsome man, on the verge of his thirties, with cold, aloof eyes and a muscled figure. Sometimes he was alone. Sometimes he was dressed in a military uniform. Sometimes it seemed like a scene from his life. And sometimes it was just an extreme close-up of that lovely, disappointed face...

Duo didn't know this man. He didn't know where these visions came from. He knew he was helpless to obey them, though, and if paint wasn't available he would resort to sketching. On anything. Including the walls. This man was like a demon inside him who had to get out. And he would dig his claws through Duo's chest to do it, if he had to.

Sometimes Duo thought he was just going crazy. That he had some alter ego locked inside of him that would eventually overpower his increasingly fragile state. But other times, when the visions were few, he thought maybe it was just that hit, maybe it was laced with something, maybe... But then he'd realize he was addicted to the visions as he was to the H. And it would never have been just that hit. He had a voluminous amount of work featuring the man.

Tonight he was sitting in a diner, his back to Duo, those dispassionate eyes trained on a coffee mug. But this painting was different and Duo gasped as he fell backwards onto the floor, landing hard on his ass but barely noticing the pain. His stomach clenched as he started bottoming out and he felt like he was going to be sick.

This time, he knew where the man was. He knew this diner. He'd been there more than once, in fact. It was... it was close to here. To his apartment. And it was shocking because in all his time painting all these paintings, he had never painted a place he knew before.

Why was it different, this time? Was he _here_? _Now_? Duo's heart started pounding and he grasped as his chest, suddenly unable to breath.

In a desperate attempt to escape the painting he crawled down the hallway to his room, drug himself into his bed, and threw the covers over his huddled body. The implications were too extreme to deal with right then. Right then, he needed to hide. Hide from him. Hide and wait until tomorrow when he could think.

* * *

Heero sat at the dingy diner and tilted his cup back and forth, the cream he didn't ask for in his coffee swirling this way and that, until it meddled into a pathetic brown the color of sand.

Sand...

It had been such a long time since he'd been in the bloody sand but he would never forget it's suffocating presence when it was the only thing for ten thousand miles in every direction.

True, his tour in Afghanistan had been brief, but it still left an imprint on his heart that could never be removed. It became immediately apparent to all of his supervisors that despite his efficiency and dedication to the mission, he would never lead men or win the Medal of Honor because he could care less if his whole platoon died to accomplish it. After that scenario became a reality the CIA had quickly recruited him, likely at his superiors' request.

His career with the CIA was much more successful. But coming off a four year infiltration was going to be hard, he knew it. Not right now, not the first night, and probably not the next one. But eventually he would break down, as all good agents did. At least he hoped he would. Because if he didn't, they were going to make him.

To not break was a sign of weakness. Too much dedication, too much drive. Too in character, _stuck_. He'd never get another mission if they couldn't properly psychologically evaluate him and he wasn't ready for his career with the CIA to be over.

But he had nothing to break him. Most of his colleagues broke when they went home to fuck their wives. Or kiss their children's cow-licked hair. Or do whatever normal people with normal lives did when they weren't in the field.

He didn't have any of that. He'd never met his father. His mother was a nice enough woman but she was never home and eventually succumbed to lung cancer from the second-hand smoke of diner waitressing mixed with her own personal smoking since 13 and yeah, it hurt, but the writing was on the wall. He knew it was coming and just like everything in his life, he steeled himself against it so that when it happened, he was ready. And he felt nothing.

This diner was the closest way to be near her. Not that she had ever worked here – they lived in a series of tiny Midwest towns, very far away from the "big city" – but he grew up on free diner food brought home in Styrofoam clamshells wrapped in plastic bags a little after 11 each night.

It wasn't that he really wanted to be close to her. But he knew he needed to find a "home." He needed to find something to break him. And this was the only thing he could think of to do. Sadly, he knew... it wasn't going to work.

Heero sighed, resigning himself to the reality that he'd have to call his handler for advice. They told him to "take a breather," they'd "be in touch" in a few weeks, "don't worry" about it, and they set him up with a plane ticket, a furnished apartment, and a hefty bonus. But all Heero wanted right then was to be looking at a new mission file, filling in details on the pegboard and thinking about his next character.

'Maybe they were right,' he thought doubtfully. It was only his first night in the city. Tomorrow he'd get a peek at it, try to get a grasp on its dark underbelly. All cities had 'em. You just had to know where to look...

Nonchalantly he flipped two crisp, clean dollars on the counter next to his untouched coffee and sauntered back to his apartment. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Tomorrow was another day...


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note:** Thank you to everyone who took the time to read this little piece! I'm quite surprised by the amount of attention it received considering I don't personally like to read AUs. ;-) I hope I don't disappoint you and that you'll continue to enjoy! BTW, I hope to update every Thursday for those who are following anonymously.

And to **Remsyk**, the word 'slammed' is a verb in this instance and is synonymous with 'injected.' ;-) So it was used correctly, but thanks! =)

All warnings on part one.

* * *

Duo turned out into the bright sunlight, feeling a certain sense of accomplishment as he had secured an exhibition for himself at what was definitely the most prestigious gallery he would appear in to date – by a long shot. The soft, kind words of the owner were a flattery Duo found difficult to accept, but he had to remember to send a gift and passionate thank you note to his most enthusiastic collector for turning the owner on to him.

He wanted to create something new for this exhibit. Something that didn't involve... _him_. So despite his nagging cravings he knew he was going to have to spend some time off of it. Maybe he'd just get some weed on his way home, though he knew it'd only settle his stomach and make him manageable.

Speaking of, he did feel a little ill, the horrible crashing feeling of the next day always leaving him this way. At least he managed through the meeting without incident. He allowed himself to pause a minute, leaning against the brick wall of the nearest building, the rough stone digging into his back through the thin button-up he'd put on to meet the curator. He closed his eyes, caught his breath. He could make it home before he fell apart. He could do this...

And when he opened his eyes he thought he felt reality crash around him. If he wasn't certain he slammed the last of it the night before, he'd think he was high at that very moment because there, heading towards him with quiet dedication, was the man in all his paintings.

He blinked rapidly, pitching forward a bit to get a better look. Same dark hair falling into his face. Same beautiful dark eyes. Same hint of Japanese heritage lingering in him, giving him an aloof look that suited his demeanor.

Duo didn't really have to look twice. He _knew _it was him the moment his eyes touched him.

But despite this cataclysmic moment that nearly threatened to stop his heart beating in his chest, the other man didn't even notice him. Sometimes, when he let himself believe there really was another man, that he was real and not some heroin-induced figment of his overactive imagination, he would wonder if he saw him as well. If they were connected somehow, tied to each other in some cosmic way, and he would see glimpses of Duo's life and maybe, one day, try to find him.

And so the disappointment Duo felt as he walked right by nearly had him on his knees. His chest ached and he wanted to call out to the other, but he could hardly breathe, let alone find his voice.

Finally, with a will power Duo forgot he'd had, he spoke without thinking, shouting the only words which slammed through his fog-filled mind –

"Holy _shit_ – it's _you_!"

The man stopped instantly. He completely froze. Duo didn't know whether to approach him or hide, suddenly terrified of this man he knew nothing about and how deranged he'd appear once he tried to explain. The conflict in him was nearly overwhelming – concurrently begging him to keep walking, ignore him, leave him in peace, or turn to him, ask the question, find out who he was, finally learn his name.

The roar of Duo's heart in his ears was almost more than he could bear as the other man slowly turned, a distinctive glare he'd seen so many times chiseled into his face. He stormed towards him with the fury of a hurricane and Duo was terrified he'd get swept up in it. Duo backed up quickly as those hard eyes pinned him down and slammed hard into the brick wall he'd only moments before leaned against gratefully, completely shocked he didn't even remember it was there. There was no escape.

Despite the anger in his face, the words were soft and disbelieving, the voice he'd often longed to hear making him weak.

"How do you know me?"

"I – I can't explain," Duo replied choppily, having no idea where to begin. Oh, you're just a vision I get when I'm high on fucking H, no biggie, I might be talking to myself right now for all I fucking know – probably wouldn't go over too well.

"Well, you better think of a way," he growled, intimidating Duo in a way he'd never felt before. Even when shit went down with junkies at parties and he had a gun in his face, he didn't feel as scared as he did right at that very moment.

"I've painted you," he breathed, unable to believe the words escaped his mouth in his panicked state. The other man looked shocked and confused for a brief moment before his emotions were clamped down and a stoic mask was shifted back in place.

"You _what_?" he asked simply, as if he didn't really comprehend what Duo had said.

"I – I've painted you," he repeated, suddenly more nervous than scared, his heart slowing a bit as he realized the man wasn't going to assault him physically. At least, he didn't think so... "I don't know you, but I've painted you."

Those dark blue eyes he'd seen so many times narrowed a moment, inspecting him carefully, looking over his face suspiciously before he suddenly turned away, apparently seeing him as essentially harmless. And although Duo was glad to be out from under those serious eyes, he felt his heart crash against his stomach and he lurched forward, leaded feet fighting him as he finally was near enough to reach out and grab his arm.

Duo quickly realized what a horrible mistake he made as he was flung backward callously like the other man was smashing a bug under his foot. Miraculously he managed to stay on his feet and he looked up to realize he was still stuck under that fierce stare.

Feeling the fool he unceremoniously dug a handful of business cards out of his pocket and threw them at the man, afraid to approach him again. In truth he wanted to simply grab one and hand it to him like a normal person, but he was shaking so hard from fear and nerves and the low that he couldn't make his fingers work to pick a single card out from the stack.

"Look at my work!" he shouted crazily, feeling completely insane and knowing he looked it. "You'll see. You'll see!" The man just stared at him, still as one of his paintings, confusion and what Duo was sure was disgust seeping through that perfect visage of calm apathy.

Without waiting to see if he picked up a single card, Duo turned on his heels and walked stiffly away, his stomach churning from the meeting, trying to appear as though he was somewhat collected after such a ridiculous outburst.

This... this changed _everything_. In ways Duo couldn't even hazard to guess at, even if he never saw the man again, his life was forever changed.

He was _real_.

* * *

Heero stared at his reflection in the dark computer screen. He barely let himself think since... _it_ happened, deciding that instead of discovering the city any further, he would simply buy groceries, cook, do anything he could to distract him from... from the _incident_.

The incident. Even to give it such a vague name was to acknowledge its occurrence. Those crazed violet eyes and tousled hair stopping his heart with those simple words.

"It's _you_."

The memory of them made him swallow hard, unable to combat his fear. They were the two most terrifying words an undercover operative would ever hear. To be recognized was to be discovered and to be discovered was certain death.

But he had no recollection of the thin man in tight fitting jeans and a loose white shirt, unbuttoned at the top in a very metro way that Heero found immediately distasteful. He had no idea how he could possibly know him. He had never been stationed here – in fact he had never been to this city in his entire life. Unless they were high school classmates or something...

No. He fingered the business card carefully then, thick white linen cardstock, letter pressed with the simple signature 'Duo Maxwell' in brown ink. He had never known anyone to go by that name and it was too uncommon to forget. Underneath the signature was his title, 'mixed media artist,' and Heero couldn't help but think how useless a profession that was. The only other information imprinted on the small card was a phone number and a website.

He didn't really know what compelled him to pick up the card. He certainly didn't _want_ to. Giving in to such a fanatical demand wasn't something Heero usually did. But... he had to know. If someone knew him, he had to know how.

So it was with much reservation that he turned on his computer and pulled up the web browser, typing the simple URL in almost against his will.

Heero's first impression of the work was neutral, to say the least. Art was something he had no interest in and modern art especially completely eluded him. He supposed it took emotions to understand. Hadn't someone told him that once?

Yeah, he remembered then, his high school girlfriend. It had been a long time since he'd thought about her...

He refocused, looking through the work on the first page with indifference. It wasn't beyond his ability to believe the man staged the whole scene for publicity. He certainly didn't see anything that warranted the kind of reaction his presence received from this 'Duo.'

Then he noticed a series of links at the bottom to different galleries organized by content. The very last one was a gallery called 'The Man.' Intrigued and realizing it was the only one that implied paintings of people, he clicked and as soon as the page loaded, he froze. Immediately he felt his blood pressure skyrocket and the blood rush in his ears. There were so many pictures... Pictures of places he's been that were half a world away from here. Pictures of people he was with when he was in the field. Pictures of the way he looked, what he wore, everything exactly as it was.

No one could know this. If the Yakuza had known these pictures were here...

He wracked his brain going through a laundry list of who this 'Duo' could possibly be. Was he on the inside too? No, he couldn't be, he had pictures of him going back all the way to his military career. Was it someone in the CIA? But how would he know exactly what he was wearing when he met with Hideaki over Christmas two years ago? Little details like that, little things that were absolutely perfect made Heero legitimately afraid of this man. Regardless of the fact that he had seemed so crazy and innocuous, he obviously knew _way_ more about Heero than anyone should. _Anyone_.

He was an extreme liability and he had to be shut down.

But a nagging voice in the back of his head was repeatedly asking – if he meant to do Heero harm, why expose himself now? He could've taken him out at any moment over the last eight years. He didn't even have to do it himself, he could've just given some of these paintings to the right person and he wouldn't even have to get his hands dirty.

Heero stared down at the phone in his hands with quite a bit of surprise that he was actually shaking. He single-handedly took down Yoshinori Hideaki*, for Christ's sake. Some braided lady-man wasn't going to have him falling to pieces over some damned paintings.

Carefully he typed the numbers in and hit send, lifting the phone to his ear, feeling like he was on the butt end of a joke and his handler would pick up on the second ring, as usual, laughing at him.

But the phone rang a third time. And a fourth. And a fifth.

And then Duo picked up on the other end, his voice relaxed significantly, and answered with a breathy "Hello?"

"How do you know who I am?" Heero snapped immediately, unable to keep the anger and fear out of his voice.

"Oh! Ohhhhh..." Obviously the full implication of who he was took a moment for the other man to process.

"How do you have all these pictures?" Heero demanded again.

"I can't explain." The same excuse as earlier. "Can we meet somewhere to talk about this?"

Heero sighed heavily into the phone. The man sounded disoriented now and Heero wondered if he had been asleep. Or perhaps drunk. Maybe high. Anyway, he wasn't getting any information out of him this way and despite what his mind was telling him he knew in his gut that he wasn't a threat. If he meant to kill him he would've done it hours ago and not given him the chance to disappear.

"Where?" Heero found himself asking, almost against his will.

"There's a Mexican joint down the street from where we met – Papi's. Maybe around noon?" he offered lazily and Heero confirmed it. He had to be high.

"You better be there," he threatened darkly and there was a little giggle on the other end before Heero hung up the phone, frustrated and definitely not in the mood to deal with a stoner.

Maybe it was all just a weird coincidence. He stared angrily at his face on the computer screen, staring angrily back at him with the same expression. Maybe he'd seen someone who looked like him somewhere once and –

No. Heero stopped himself from wasting his time wandering down that path any further. Even if he somehow managed to dream up his exact face, he still knew every damn place he'd been for the past eight years. And not even his handler knew that.

* * *

* Because I don't know _anything_ about mobs, I turned to my trusty Wikipedia, who helpfully informed me about the Yoshitomi Group which is a Yakuza organization actively involved in Latin American cartels that are responsible for drug trafficking, contract killing, and kidnapping in the US. I combined some names to keep this fictional and I want you to know although this is kinda based on that, this is _totally fictional_ and hopefully I won't have to talk about it too much because I don't really feel like doing a crap ton of research on the Yakuza for a fan fic. =P If you happen to be a Yakuza aficionado, please forgive my total ignorance. Thanks!


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to all my lovely readers and followers! Happy v-day! :D Hope you enjoy... This story is really picking up and after this the chapters get longer and longer... Fair warning. ;-P

All warnings on part one.

* * *

Duo had carefully made sure no hair was out of place when he went to meet the man whose name he still didn't know. He tried to dress down, just jeans and a black t-shirt, getting the distinct impression that some of his more flamboyant attire wouldn't engender feelings of trust and kindness in the stoic man. Though he felt a little silly about taking so much time to think about his appearance, he cut himself some slack. After all, he'd had secret trysts with this man for years. Although he might not know Duo, Duo felt to some degree he knew _him_, and he couldn't help but want to make a good impression on his ever-present painted friend.

But as he slipped into Papi's he attempted to tone down his expectations. This man obviously didn't have the same experience as him and appeared less than receptive to his sudden presence in his life. And despite painting him for the last eight years, Duo didn't actually know anything concrete about him. He had no idea what he did for a living – if he were still a solider, wouldn't he have painted him that way more? – or why he would be here now, all of a sudden.

He easily spotted the dark man sitting alone at a table, looking extremely uncomfortable in the festive atmosphere, and slipped into the booth with him. Quickly he flashed him a signature smile, trying to put him a little bit at ease, but if anything that only deepened the glare he received.

"You have to remove those pictures." The words were matter of fact. Heero had actually thought about nothing else since the night before. Even if he couldn't explain how he had the pictures, they still had to be removed. That had to be priority number one. To his credit, Duo managed to disguise his shock in amusement and that smile widened on his face. This pleased Heero to a slight degree. It was easier for him to deal with people who knew how to mask their secrets than those who wore their hearts on their sleeves.

"Okay, okay," Duo agreed effortlessly. "No introduction?" Maybe he just wanted to get down to business, but Duo felt this was a pivotal moment in his life, possibly the only reason he was alive, and he wouldn't let this man slip through his fingers too easily. He needed to know him, know _why_.

Heero frowned but didn't feel threatened. Considering it for a moment, he finally decided to tell him. "I... I'm Heero Yuy." It felt strange to say his given name after four years of doing all he could to forget it. This time Duo's smile wasn't forced and he reached out his hand for a shake. Reluctantly, Heero accepted, noting how warm and honest the handshake was. It had been a long time... Guarded touch was all he was allowed. Feeling awkward, he repeated his demand. "Seriously. You have to remove those pictures."

Duo waved his hand easily, just glad to finally have his name. Heero... "No problem," he agreed. "I don't show them or anything, I only had them on my website in case... in case you wandered along." Those impossibly blue eyes pinned on him made his heart race and he vaguely hoped he wasn't too flushed.

This relaxed Heero a bit. But only a bit. "I would appreciate it. My line of work doesn't really welcome anyone knowing details that intimate about my life," he admitted, much to his own surprise. He didn't plan to tell Duo anything. And though those words were rather ambiguous, it was more than he'd intended to say.

Duo's eyes widened in his own surprise. "Those were – I mean, that really – You were really there?" he asked, perplexed. "You were at that diner two nights ago?"

Heero silently cursed himself. The less Duo knew the better and here he was handing over more information to him. "You don't know?" Heero finally asked pointedly. Until that moment, he felt like Duo held all the cards. Now he wasn't so sure.

Duo blushed a moment and paused. How could he tell this man, who seemed so austere and proper, about his drug-induced visions?

Luckily Duo was saved for a moment when the waiter came for their order. Heero just ordered a beer while Duo got empanadas and fried plantains with the promise of letting Heero try them, despite his disinterest.

Once they were alone again, Duo stared at his hands, hopelessly calloused, the crevices stained with paint. Staring further up his arms he saw the beginnings of a few collapsed veins. Despite how careful he was, there was no way around it, years of drug abuse were hard on the body. But years without drugs were hard, too, Duo knew. He could tell Heero was studying them too, but he didn't say anything and seemed earnestly neutral.

"Sometimes," Duo started slowly, softly, "in certain situations, I have these compulsive visions of you. I... I can't do anything about them, I just have to paint them. If I don't paint, I have to draw. I have to get them out. It's like a possession. So many times I thought you were just a demon within me, forcing its way out..." He stole a quick glance at Heero's eyes, those deep blue spheres staring dispassionately at him, the way they had so many times in oil and latex and charcoal, studying him. Duo flipped his eyes back down again. "I never knew you were real. Sometimes I wondered if what I painted was happening to a real person at that very moment, but I thought I was just crazy, I thought I was imagining it..." Finally he stared back up, fortifying himself. "I never thought I'd really meet you."

Heero considered the words carefully. From his arms he could easily tell Duo doubted himself due to his own drug abuse, but Heero felt like he was in no position to judge. After all, he spent years shaking hands with drug lords and did his own fair share of illicit activity in the name of friendship with them. His training told him Duo believed everything he said, even if his story was... outlandish. He studied Duo's strangely indigo eyes, wondering if they were enhanced by contacts, and finally deemed him of no possible threat.

They were interrupted by their waiter and Duo seemed happy to have a distraction. He politely offered some to Heero, who declined, and set about to make short work of the meal.

"When did it start?" Heero asked carefully. He felt like there must be a more logical explanation than what he had received, but if there was, he knew Duo had repressed it to the point of believing this ridiculous story of visions and possessions and that any actual information he was going to get had to be extracted slowly and gently. For all he knew, someone could've been feeding this information to him while he was high... Although it did seem unlikely that Duo would know someone who knew that much about him, it was the only reasonable explanation he had.

"Oh, for years!" The food gave Duo more gusto than he'd had before and he smiled, glad Heero hadn't completely brushed him off as insane. "Ever since –" he hesitated, embarrassed and unsure of how Heero would react. "Since I first did heroin," he admitted weakly. Heero's eyebrows rose almost imperceptibly, but that was it.

"So you think this is tied to your drug use?" Heero rolled his beer glass in his hand casually, trying not to sound like he was belittling the other man despite how preposterous that statement was. Moments like this he was glad he could fall back on training to take care of his own innate inability to deal with people. Especially illogical, flamboyant people.

"Well, yeah," Duo admitted, ashamed although Heero didn't seem particularly judgmental with his question. And he had a right to know the truth about how Duo had all these paintings of him. "That's the only common denominator that I can find."

Heero considered his words again as Duo ate. He still didn't believe him, despite how he believed himself, but he didn't know how else to approach the matter.

Duo set down his fork then and looked up at Heero cautiously. It was his turn to study, though he knew his own eyes held none of that trademark intimidation. Although Heero was very good at guarding his thoughts, Duo had stared into his eyes for years on end, considering what may be behind them, trying to learn their secrets, and he could see easily through the facade the other man had erected. "I don't care if you don't believe me," he said finally. "I'm just glad I got to meet you."

This took Heero aback slightly. It was such a foreign thought process to him that he almost inquired why anyone would feel that way. As a field agent, being believed was everything, the _only_ thing, that mattered.

Feeling uncomfortable and unprepared, Heero slid out a few dollars and placed them under his unsampled glass. There was really nothing more he could say without considering motives and intentions and drawing up a game plan. Unfortunately he was completely unaccustomed to this kind of association. He didn't even know who he was or how he was supposed to feel, let alone what to convey to this strangely unguarded man.

Duo attempted to hide his disappointment, which Heero appreciated, and he cheerfully asked, "gone so soon?"

"There's nothing more to say," he stated simply. Then thought to add, "is there?" – just in case he changed his mind and was going to confess something plausible.

Duo shrugged as he speared one of the last fried plantains dejectedly. "I guess not."

It was more than he should've expected for me to want to be his friend, Heero thought bitterly. But he supposed that's what kept Duo from attempting any personal questions. He must know how nonsensical the whole situation was.

With that Heero was gone, slipping down the street in the direction opposite his apartment in case he was being trailed. Though he supposed that was a pointless concern. Obviously whoever was manipulating Duo was good. _Very_ good. So good he had been following him for years without his knowing it.

The thought made him shiver and he felt like indeterminate eyes were crawling all over him. This was really the worst situation he could possibly imagine for a spy and he had no one to turn to. He'd briefly considered calling his handler, but immediately realized if they deemed him compromised he'd be chained to a desk before he could draw his next breath. And then he may as well not bother to draw any more anyway.

No, he considered, stealing a glance at himself in the reflective surface of a shop window as he passed, this he was going to have to do alone.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Hope the split POV wasn't too awkward! I'm not exactly happy with it because I planned on doing some more split POVs but they're not presenting themselves to me as I write... But I just couldn't bear only having one of their thoughts during their first meeting! So here it remains. ;-)


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you to all my lovely new followers and reviewers! I appreciate it greatly. Hope I don't disappoint you... ;-P

All warnings on part one.

* * *

The sun beat into the vaulted glass studio room with bright, oppressive cheeriness but Duo's mood matched its optimism and he didn't mind in the least. He hummed along to a peaceful recording of Gregorian chanting, which was an admittedly strange choice, but he thought that it alone could match the way his spirit felt at that moment.

With big, broad strokes he brushed paint across an impossibly large canvas with his bare hands, careful to keep his balance on the step stool he needed to reach the top. Lightly he hopped up and down from his workspace, picking up carefully cut strips of sheer paper and pressing them lovingly into the paint on the canvas so they stuck. As Emily* said, 'hope is a thing with feathers, that perches in the soul,' and Duo knew the bird trapped in his heart needed to burst forth onto the canvas so that the whole world could see it and feel the same.

Although it had been days since their meeting, the impact it had on Duo seemed never ending. He had never fully realized the effect those forced paintings had on his psyche. Truly, he had been in a dark place for a long time, thinking he was crazy, thinking he was possessed; unable to tell anyone for fear that they wouldn't believe him, tell him he was exaggerating, making it all up; wanting to experience it again and again and wanting it just to go away, burn all the paintings, pretend it never happened...

Now he knew. The man was real. He had a name. Heero. Those things he painted actually happened to him. And he met him. He _met_ him.

Even if he never saw Heero again, at least he knew.

And so he set about creating the most positive body of work he had completed to date. He vaguely hoped his key investor wouldn't be disappointed, but Mr. Winner had always seemed happy enough himself and he never understood why the other man took such an interest in his dark work to begin with. Not that it was any of his business to pry.

Suddenly Duo heard his work phone ringing and glared down at his hands covered in half-dry paint. He sighed and decided that at least it was latex, it'd peel off mostly, and he dashed down the hallway to beat the machine. After all if it were the gallery owner he'd hate to miss the call.

"Hello," he sung into the phone, holding it with his shoulder to avoid as much paint exposure as possible. "Duo Maxwell speaking."

"Can I see them?" The rough, direct voice on the other end almost made him drop the phone and his heart immediately began pounding in his chest.

"You're not really one for greetings, are ya?" Duo joked, but Heero was silent, waiting for an answer. "Yeah, yeah, come on over, I'll give you my address," he consented, waiting until Heero was ready to give it to him.

"I can be over in thirty minutes," Heero offered, obviously wasting no time. Duo glanced around the living space quickly before he agreed, scrubbing his hands furiously under the facet.

"Sure, whenever, I'm just working all day." Which had Duo wondering, why wasn't Heero working...?

The phone connection was cut before anything else was said and Duo plucked the phone from his shoulder and stared at it in disbelief.

Quickly he glanced around his open living space and took stock. His apartment was at the top of a high rise and consisted of two large rooms and a bathroom. The other room was meant to be a big master bedroom, but Duo fashioned it into his studio and stuck his bed opposite the couch in the kitchen/living room area. Luckily he didn't own much so making it presentable was relatively easy. Quickly he threw dirty dishes in the washer and made his bed.

No sooner had he finished making the bed than a knock fell on his door. Heero certainly didn't waste any time, he thought, suddenly overcome with nervousness that he was there, now, about to enter into his private space. Most of his so-called friends didn't even know where he lived. He certainly didn't make a habit of inviting total strangers in.

But he put on his best smile when he opened the door, soaking in the vision that stood there, chocolate tousled hair falling into deep prussian eyes, still unable to truly believe he was real and really about to enter his studio.

"That was quick!" Duo exclaimed as he held the door open and Heero entered cautiously. "Don't worry, no booby-traps," he joked, elbowing Heero in the arm and receiving a cool glare for his actions.

Heero's eyes scanned the room that contained all of his worldly possessions and nodded. "It's... nice," he said shortly, knowing his approval was far from necessary but obviously feeling as if he should say something. It made Duo chuckle.

"Wait 'til you see my studio." He winked and lead the other man down the hallway and into the huge workspace, his giant work-in-progress disregarded and drying in the midday sun. Duo couldn't believe he forgot about it and hurriedly began covering his paint cans so that they wouldn't dry out.

But Heero clearly only had his mind on one thing, and once his eyes alit upon it he walked towards the multiple stacks of paintings featuring his face on the far wall. The last one, the diner scene, was titled against them, facing forward and Duo watched silently as he walked up and studied it. Carefully he set it to the side and began picking up the pieces one by one, staring at each one for a long time before setting it to the side to view the next.

Duo eventually decided to walk over to him and stood behind him silently, observing him as he stared at painting after painting of himself.

"At first, I was broke, and scared, and I painted over them not to waste the canvas," he murmured quietly, unsure what words he could offer the man. He must've felt violated. He must've been scared. "But once I started selling, I started saving them, to remind myself that I wasn't making it all up, that I was truly crazy..."

Heero didn't take his eyes off the piece he was holding but he set it back down anyway. "You should paint over all of them," he replied darkly, staring at the stacks as if he might be able to burn them to ash with his mind.

Duo set a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, and though he felt the muscles under his fingertips coil and tighten, Heero didn't brush his hand away. "I suppose there really isn't any point in holding on to them anymore, now that you're here."

"I don't know how long I'll be here for," Heero replied, finally turning to meet his eyes. Duo let his hand fall away.

"Oh," he answered dejectedly. He felt foolish that he wanted some sort of relationship with the man. Heero owed him nothing. He was just an unfortunate victim of an inexplicable situation.

For some reason Heero seemed to take pity on him and revised his statement. "Well, it'll be a couple more weeks, at least."

Unable to stop it, a smile spread across his face. "Hey do you want some lunch? I could fix us something and you don't have to talk or anything. I could listen to myself talk for hours." He winked then and Heero looked like he was going to dismiss him out of hand but he paused. And when he agreed it delighted Duo beyond measure.

Quickly he led Heero back to the living area and instructed him to make himself at home on the couch while he prepped chicken salad wraps.

"I don't mean to pry but I'm assuming you've not been in the city long, having followed your life and all," Duo started casually, laughing a little at his joke. "I'm supposed to have a show coming up in two months. I don't know if you'll be here for that but if you're looking for something to do you should come on by." Heero made a noncommittal sound and Duo smiled. "Even though you won't be in any of the works, you know, not as such, you definitely had a profound influence on this body of work. I was just going to rehash some things that didn't sell before and add a few pieces but man, ever since I ran into you I've been so inspired. It's been a long time since I felt this way. It's nice, actually. Really nice."

He paused to bring Heero a glass of ice water and some chips and salsa, setting them on the low coffee table before him. Heero was flipping through a book e.e. cummings he had sitting there.

"I spoke to thee with a smile and thou didst not answer," Duo murmured quietly, getting the silent man's attention for a moment as he returned to the kitchen area.

"You know if you like diner food you really oughta try Susie's down on East Main. Ah man, her reuben is to die for." Carefully Duo wrapped up the sandwiches, cutting them in half and fishing pickles out of the jar to accompany them.

"Maybe I will," Heero finally offered as Duo looked up from his task and met his eyes.

This time his smile was easy and unforced, sensing that Heero really would listen to his advice.

"Tell JoJo I sent ya. She'll give you some of those famous chocolate chip cookies." Duo's voice was light and teasing, unable to imagine Heero enjoying cookies at all, at least not the way a normal person did, so he didn't expect Heero's face to strain and an unreadable emotion to take over momentarily. He wanted to ask but was desperate to continue their tentative amiability so he let it go.

Duo crossed the room to set the food on the table, pulling out an oversized pillow and sat cross-legged on it on the other side of the table. He tried not to study him but he couldn't help noting the purposeful way he moved. It was like every bite was premeditated, even the smallest movement planned. Duo felt uncouth in comparison.

"Did you learn that in the military?" Duo finally asked, unable to control himself, after a rambling tirade about the best late night food spots in the city that Heero was clearly only half-listening to. He didn't really want to ask such a personal question, but the words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it.

Heero lifted a skeptical eyebrow and stopped the wrap midway to his mouth. "What?"

"The way you are. You're so... deliberate." Duo suddenly felt embarrassed to be pointing out something like that and stared up at him with shy eyes.

Heero lowered his hand and contemplated it a moment. "No," he answered finally. "I think I've always been like this."

Duo chuckled. "You must hate people like me. I can't move through a room without inspecting and inquiring about everything."

Heero shrugged, "I don't really care," and took another bite.

"But your friends are all like you, right? Introverted, contemplative...?"

"I don't have friends." The answer rolled off Heero's lips easily, as if he didn't give it a second thought. Duo blinked in surprise but Heero was completely unaffected.

He laughed. "You don't have _any_ friends?"

"No." Still matter-of-fact.

Surely he must be joking, Duo thought, though he didn't seem like he was joking at all. "But those people I painted you with...?"

"Work," he answered simply.

"No family?"

"Not that I know of."

"A girlfriend?" Duo tried desperately.

"Once."

"Once?"

Heero shrugged again, letting the implication of his lonely life fall off him like water. "The effort required to maintain a romantic relationship with a woman isn't worth it."

Duo felt his jaw slacken and his mouth fall open before he snapped it shut promptly and pretended like that was a normal thing to say. He had to wonder what kind of person would be so nonchalant about the fact that he essentially had no one in his life he cared for, no one he could turn to if things got rough. He wondered how long you'd have to be alone before you became completely numb to it. He wondered if he could ever reach that point, given enough time...

"I just try to be honest," Heero said at length, breaking Duo from his reverie. He almost seemed as if he was offering the explanation for his own sake, not to further any conversation with Duo. "But I suppose there is no place for honesty in this world..."

Duo reflected on that a moment. "Art is honest," he said at last. Heero's serious eyes met his for a moment, probing him, trying to get at his heart. He felt strangely naked under the stare.

"Maybe," Heero conceded after a moment, "but I don't understand art."

A smile spread across Duo's face then. "It's easy," he explained. "Art's all about how it makes you _feel_."

But a darkness stole across Heero's features as he stood. "And therein lies the problem."

Duo felt a sudden spark of compassion within him that made him want to wrap the man in a ceaseless hug and – no. He realized immediately what a ridiculous idea that was. If Heero had no friends, he certainly didn't care if Duo was his friend or not.

"Look, thanks for everything, lunch, letting me see the pictures," Heero said hurriedly as Duo stood to walk him out. "But I really should be leaving."

"Yeah," Duo agreed, though he wouldn't have minded if he stayed longer. "You can call me anytime."

And just like that, he was gone once more. But this time, Duo felt sure he would see him again.

* * *

* In reference to Emily Dickinson and her poem _Hope_.

**Author's Note:** I hope this chapter wasn't too outrageously boring. Transitional chapters kick my butt. I always get trapped up in my own words. Duo's part was definitely longer than I would've liked and I think it egged me into Heero's being longer too which is what made me separate the chapters. Their themes are pretty different and together they'd have been like double the length of other chapters so the next one will be Heero's. Promise. =)


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you to the lovely reviewers who let me know the last chapter wasn't boring. ;-) I'm going to attempt to be less self-deprecating from here on out. And this is one of my favorite chapters so... enjoy! :D

All warnings on part one.

* * *

Despite his own personal admissions, which were unfortunate but forgivable, Heero's reconnaissance mission went flawlessly. He acknowledged that what he was doing probably wasn't healthy and certainly wasn't conducive to any psychological evaluation he would have to undergo, but he honestly didn't know what else to do. He didn't have hobbies or friends or anyone to go see. He didn't even know what he _liked_ to do, let alone what he _wanted_ to do.

So he started trailing Duo. It was beyond easy for him – unsuspecting civilians are always the easiest. They never think to look behind them, they never notice the car across the street is always the same car, they never expect it.

Heero took it slow. He went home to eat and sleep and shower. All to convince himself that this wasn't anything peculiar, that he wasn't going overboard. And it didn't feel much like he was going overboard considering how uneventful Duo's life appeared to be.

For about three weeks he followed him in rotating shifts. Most of the day he spent tucked away in his studio, but Heero supposed that was due to the fact that he was trying to create enough work for an exhibition from scratch in two months. Five times he ran to the post office to ship a painting. Twice he went to a fancy lunch, once with his portfolio and once with a painting in tow. Almost every night he'd meet a dark haired girl for dinner. She was the only person who came to his place. He couldn't tell if she was a girlfriend or not, but at the very least they were close. They usually would wander to a party at some trashy apartment or bar in a bad neighborhood. Sometimes Duo went alone, but usually she was there. So for a few days he followed her after discovering where she lived when they went back to her place after dinner once. She had a normal 9-5 at a mechanic and though she had some other associates, she mostly seemed to hang out with Duo.

He frequently wondered if Duo was curious why he never called. Then again, Duo had his number and he never called him either. Every time he started thinking like that he realized he'd done nothing that would suggest he would be even remotely receptive to any additional contact and that it was unfair to project some dismal desire for friendship upon the braided man.

Clearly a whole month of only knowing one person in an entire city was finally wearing on him. Though he wondered if that would help him break so that he could pass his psyche exam, he almost always came to the depressing conclusion that he was never going to break. He was just creating a new character for himself, the character of Heero Yuy, and he was vetting his role just like he would if he was trying to take down a hit. Start with research, subtly slip into their lives, gain their trust, and take them down.

But he _had_ to get to Duo, right? Duo had a friend – hell, it could be that chick for all he knew – feeding him information. He had to get to Duo. There was a reason. He wasn't just doing this out of desperation, isolation, and the simple fact that he had nothing else to do. No. It was important.

It was _important_.

A sinking sort of loneliness was creeping into his heart the day he finally decided to make his move. A loneliness of a sort he'd never felt before. He typically distracted himself with a job or other people's emotions. To have to sit and deal with his own bullshit day in and day out was a weary monotony he found he could barely tolerate.

It was a bar night. Heero figured he could hardly walk into a private party where he wasn't invited and it would take too long to vet some kind of relationship with whoever leased those junky apartments. So he settled on a bar night.

If Heero were on a job, a real job, he would've checked himself. He was feeling reckless and needy, a combination which he rarely felt and which would've jeopardized any relationship he needed to create. But this wasn't a real job and Duo already liked him and Chang wouldn't be calling him up to check in so he ignored it, pushed forward, and against his better judgment, walked into the bar.

The ambiance, if you could call it that, was tense and the air heavy with the mingled smoke of cigarettes and marijuana. The interior was close to dilapidated, the pleather on the stools cracked and peeling, the varnish on the bar bubbling, the pictures on the walls stained with smoke and time. As he scanned the room he assessed the threat level of its inhabitants and decided there was really no one there he couldn't handle. He noted Duo in the corner with a beer in his hand, a practically empty pitcher in front of him, and a cigarette dangling out of his mouth. His dark-haired girl friend was with him and they were shouting good-naturedly over the music and raucous patrons at two less than reputable looking men across the table from them.

He pretended not to notice Duo as he walked up to the bar and sat down. The burly bartender eyed him suspiciously and finished up serving his other patrons before heading over and asking bluntly what he'd have. Heero ordered whiskey straight up and sipped it nonchalantly while he waited for Duo to notice him.

After about fifteen minutes and a refill, he felt a shoulder bump into his and a tall, thin man in a trench coat leaned back against the bar, his dark, sunken eyes examining Heero mischievously.

"Never seen ya here before," he started in a warm voice with a nasally undertone. Although Heero was inclined to simply ignore him, he decided to placate the man and not risk drawing anyone's ire. The last thing he wanted was to get kicked out.

"I'm new to the city," he replied coolly, only sparing him a quick glance.

"Well, I'm Dobbins, and if there's anything I can do for you, just let me know." He gave Heero a gratuitous wink and it became immediately apparent to Heero that he was being offered drugs.

Slipping into character before he could stop himself he asked quietly if he had any snow. Once he saw the sickening smile spread across those thin lips he realized what he'd done and he felt a mix of nausea at his lack of self control and nervous anticipation at the possibility of getting high. It had been a little over three months and although he could normally block out the cravings, being this close to it, without any sort of direction in his life...

"You look like the type for that high class shit," Dobbins chuckled. "I got it. How much ya want?"

Committed to the path he'd chosen, Heero whipped out a couple bills. "Don't fuck me on the quality," he warned carefully, meeting Dobbins' eyes directly. Of course, being in Hideaki's inner circle for years left him with certain expectations that were unlikely to be fulfilled in this shit hole. "How much will this get me?" He handed the bills over under the bar.

"An eight," Dobbins replied, slipping a small pre-measured, zip-locked pouch into his hand under the bar as he took the money and slid it into a pocket inside his coat. "Pleasure doing business with ya. Just let me know if there's anything else I can do for you." He lingered there a moment longer, as if willing such an easy customer to think of something else he needed, and to avoid Dobbins' stare Heero looked the other way instead. He noticed Duo's friend sauntering up to the bar as the three men at the table laughed and clapped, a blush spreading across her cheeks.

"Hilde won't share with ya," Dobbins advised with an amused shake of his head as he hoisted himself off the bar to leave. "She don't do any of that shit."

Hearing her name she turned to look at Heero and Dobbins, the later of which was already headed off. She stared at him hard a moment, as if she recognized him but couldn't figure out from where, and Heero wondered if she'd seen the paintings too.

"Holy _fucking_ shit!" Duo's voice bounded over from across the room, his hands gesticulating wildly, the cigarette between his fingers spreading ash across the floor and unsuspecting – uncaring – patrons. He threw a punch that collided with Heero's forearm with more impact than Heero had expected. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Who is this?" Hilde asked, clearly unable to believe her friend knew this stranger.

"Its Heero!" he exclaimed, visibly delighted. Heero downed the rest of his whiskey in one shot and motioned the bartender over with two fingers. Hilde still seemed confused, which pleased Heero to a degree. Even Duo's best friend wasn't privileged with the knowledge of him.

"You have to come back over here, with us, I'll introduce you to everyone." Duo's words were rushed in his drunkenness and his enthusiasm strangely comforted Heero. Despite the ridiculous way they'd met, it was decidedly nice to have someone excited about his presence again. Three weeks without familiar contact was a long time to go. Even though Heero prided himself on his ability to distance himself from anyone and everyone, it didn't magically negate the fact that humans were social creatures who thrived on shared experience. Even when working for Hideaki, he'd become 'friends' with the other gang members. Before his long-term field assignment, he'd been 'friends' with other agents. Maybe they didn't get beers together on Friday nights, but they had mutual respect and occasionally shared a meal in the break room. To become completely separated from that... It was much more difficult than he'd ever anticipated.

"Okay," Heero agreed reluctantly and slid a couple bills towards the bartender as he poured him another glass. Hilde carried a pitcher over with them as they wandered back and Duo pulled him up a seat.

"Hey everyone! Hey!" Duo called out across the bar, standing precariously on the rims of his bar stool so that he was over a head taller than anyone else there. "Hey man, everyone, listen up you assholes!" He finally got a good majority of the patrons' attention and Heero attempted not to flush with embarrassment. He hated to be the center of attention and here everyone was looking at him. "This is my buddy Heero and all you dickheads better treat him with some damned respect, okay?" The crowd laughed and waved off Duo, some of them shouting greetings, and it appeared to Heero that Duo knew everyone there and that they all knew him. But then it seemed hard _not_ to know the boisterous, braided man.

Duo kicked his legs out from their supporting position and fell on his ass onto the stool, pouring himself another beer. "This is Hilde, if ya haven't been introduced," Duo offered, gesturing to the dark haired girl with a thumb. "She's my wing-lady and the best chick to ever have your back." She blushed lightly at the praise and stuck out her hand across the small table. Heero accepted it firmly.

"Nice 'ta meet'cha!" she quipped cheerily.

"Likewise," Heero replied flatly and released her hand so she could pour herself another drink as well.

"So where'd you meet _this_ guy?" Hilde asked Duo over the rim of her glass, eyes sparkling with amusement. It was pretty obvious even from their limited interaction that Heero and Duo were polar opposites.

"Eh," Duo replied, scratching his head and glancing in Heero's direction uncomfortably. "It's kind of a long story..."

"They all are with you," she teased.

Heero sat there and observed for about another hour as Duo and Hilde harassed and joked with their friends, speaking only when spoken too, which was fine with him. He didn't see anyone that might be a serious contender as any sort of informant, but then he wasn't actually focused much on that. Although he appreciatively sipped the whiskeys Hilde picked up for him from the bar, his fingers itched for a hit. He knew it would make this whole situation easier for him, too. And his unbearable loneliness was influencing him to desire a relationship with Duo, to be friends with him – a task that never came easy to Heero. Duo was giving him a chance, a chance he rarely got with people due to his antisocial and aloof behavior, and he found himself clinging to it against his will.

He threw back the rest of his whiskey and stared deliberately at Duo. This at least would give him the opportunity to relate to him on some level. Duo's bright eyes stared back at him playfully.

"Do I have something on my face?" he joked, leaning over the rickety table a bit more heavily than Heero felt was prudent.

Heero just nodded his head in the direction of the bathroom. "Come back with me."

Duo's eyes were wide with surprise and then narrowed in suspicion, though they still maintained that playful glint. "I don't know what kind of man you think I am Mr. Yuy, but –"

Heero cut him off with a sigh and stood. It must've occurred to Duo that he didn't mean _that_ because he heard him quickly follow after.

The bathroom was relatively grotesque at that point in the night but Heero slid into the bigger stall, motioning for Duo to join him. Duo, for his part, obviously rather inebriated and walking better than Heero anticipated, giggled at the idea of being there with him. They had to stand rather close to avoid the putrid toilet, Duo's face only a foot away from his.

"You followed me, didn't you?" Duo whispered, inching his nose closer and despite Heero's pounding heart, he kept his eyes cool and calculating, not willing to believe he'd been so sloppy that Duo noticed him these past three weeks. "I mean, how else would you find this shit hole?" he continued with a laugh.

Relief flushed through Heero as he pulled out his wallet and slid out a bill and two playing cards. Duo didn't seem to know the extent to which he was correct. He held one of the playing cards upright so the face pointed towards the ceiling and handed it to Duo.

"Hold this," he instructed and Duo obliged carefully.

"King of hearts?" he asked with genuine curiosity. "Is that how you fancy yourself?"

Heero decided to ignore this question as well, not wanting to divulge the details on the nickname given to him by his fellow gang members for his penchant for one-night stands. In fact, he never slept with the same woman twice. Nor did he particularly enjoy any of the encounters, but none of his 'friends' had to know that. It was all a show for his cover, anyway.

He pulled out the little baggie and Duo's eyes grew wide again for the second time in five minutes.

"_Shit_," Duo gapped. "I didn't know you did this shit."

Heero just met his eyes and shrugged slightly. "There's a lot you didn't paint about me, apparently."

Duo blushed. "Yeah, sometimes I forget I don't really know you."

Heero carefully poured half the baggie out on the playing card in Duo's hand, straightening the crystalline powder into two neat lines with the other card – the rule card. A constant reminder for him that no matter how fucked he got, he still had to follow the rules. No blabbing anything that could blow his cover.

"You know I don't usually do uppers," Duo admitted carefully as Heero rolled the bill into a tube.

"You don't have to," Heero replied as he inhaled the powder with efficiency, closing his eyes against the burn as it hit his sinuses.

He offered the rolled bill to Duo who stared at it a moment, hesitantly. Heero thought that he really wasn't going to accept, but then he tilted his head to the side. "Aw what the hell," he said, excitement lacing his voice. Duo accepted the bill as Heero took back the playing card so that Duo could have the rest. He groaned after the hit, his eyes closed tightly. Heero took back the bill and slipped the unsuspecting drug paraphernalia back into his wallet.

They both stood there a moment, a bit awkwardly, waiting in anticipation for the drug to hit their blood stream. After a few minutes he felt himself relax as the hit began to roll over him, that lovely euphoric feeling spreading across him like... like a lover's gentle, warm, well-known embrace – he assumed. He didn't really know, but he found it difficult to care in his growing euphoria.

"Thanks, 'Ro," Duo murmured, leaning against him for a moment. Although it was just his shoulder, in his drug-affected state the touch only added to his euphoria. Before he let that touch implicate anything, Heero reached out and gripped his upper arm, leading him out of the bathroom and back to the table where Hilde awaited anxiously.

She must've known what occurred because her face contorted simultaneously with relief and disapproval upon their return. Duo thumbed out a cigarette and offered one to Heero, who accepted gratefully. He only ever smoked while high, but then he could easily set back a pack, finding it helped maintain the high. Duo leaned over and lit the cigarette for him before lighting his own and Heero drew in deeply, feeling better than he had in months.

Tonight, he thought, smiling at Duo through half-lidded eyes, was going to be a good night.


	6. Chapter 6

Welp, here we go! Another Thursday! Just so ya know, this will only be 10 chapters long, so we're almost done... ='( But I'm already working on my next multi-part so you won't have to go long without my wonderful work in your life. ;-P (Hey, I said I'd be LESS self-deprecating!)

All warnings on part one.

Though I will add as a trigger warning, there is a brief vague mention of past non-consensual sex in this chapter.

* * *

Duo drew in deeply on his pipe as he considered the man resting peacefully in bed beside him. In his sleep, he appeared so serene. More calm than he'd ever seen him. Quite different from the night before, the effects of the shared cocaine making him lively and talkative, though honestly that was still quite a difference from his normal state of callous contemplation.

He chuckled quietly, remembering all the stories Heero had told about himself. About growing up in the Midwest and his limited perspective on the world, his time in the military and all the pranks his comrades pulled, various amusing and embarrassing cultural misunderstandings from his time in Japan, how even he found Saint Peter's breathtaking... He was better traveled than Duo had ever realized. But the fact of the matter was that they were only half stories. He would always pause and reflect and stop himself before they got too sad. And he never gave away anything that might be incriminating or lead Duo to guess at what he did for a living.

In the end it only added to the air of mystery surrounding him, though Duo appreciated every small insight he'd allowed.

His eyelids fluttered then and he groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes to protect them from the bright mid-day sun shining through Duo's vaulted windows. It was certainly a difficult room for sleeping in, but then they didn't fall asleep until nearly six a.m.

But he must've realized he wasn't at home because he suddenly jerked awake, blinking rapidly at Duo, fear evident in his posturing.

"Don't worry buddy," Duo grinned brilliantly and then w inked. "Nothing happened." At first the words seemed to confuse him, but he calmed significantly after a moment.

"You didn't want to go home when the bar closed so we came back here and talked for a long time," Duo continued, trying to jog his memory. "It was fun. Wanna hit?" he offered, holding the pipe in his direction. Heero eyed it for a moment then shook his head. Duo shrugged then got off the bed to give him some space.

"I can never deal with the way coke makes me feel the next day. Too damn sad," Duo explained as he walked over to take inventory of his fridge, though he knew it was sadly limited.

Heero didn't say anything, but when he turned to look back at the other man from across the room, he had tucked his knees into his chest and was holding them tightly. The childish pose made the heartbroken look on his face all the more poignant and Duo frowned sympathetically, knowing to some degree how he felt, wishing he could do something more for him. But he didn't know anything about that inner pain he carried and he didn't know what to say.

"Hey," he started with a kind smile, "let's get out of here."

Heero's eyes focused on him, the saddest shade of blue he'd ever seen, and there was something akin to hope there, under all that negative shit on the surface.

"We can go down to Susie's or something, get some good food. It'll make you feel better."

"Okay," he agreed, slowly unfolding all his limbs to get off the bed.

They washed up a bit and headed out together, sharing a quiet sorrow as they brushed past uncaring pedestrians on the sidewalk. Occasionally their shoulders would bump into one another or their elbows would scrape and Duo wondered if it grounded Heero at all to know that he was there. Duo knew how much one person could mean. There had been so many times in his life where he'd had no one, especially after his sister died...

But Duo painted on a smile the way he had so many times before as they entered the cozy diner, greeting the woman behind the counter as he slid into the familiar back corner booth. Heero seemed somewhat uncomfortable sitting across from him, but he didn't divulge why, he just picked up a menu from the stack on the side and glanced over it quickly.

"It was nice to see you last night, even if you followed me there," Duo opened cheerily as Heero set the menu down, having decided quickly. "Everyone liked you. Even Hilde warmed up to you after a while, and I know she was more than a little pissed that I let you come back to my place."

That drew out an interested upward twitch of the eyebrow from Heero.

Duo laughed nervously. "She's a little overprotective. I don't like men to know where I live. I've gotten in trouble before."

"You're not with her, then?" Heero asked cautiously, seeming like he was afraid to step over a line.

"Who, Hilde?" Duo asked incredulously. "I thought it was fairly obvious I'm gay." He would've sworn he saw Heero blush then, but JoJo conveniently interrupted.

"Hey sweetie," the older waitress in thick make-up and a cute aquamarine diner dress greeted Duo with a friendly smile. "You brought a friend today, huh?"

"Oh, yeah, this is Heero," he introduced the other man with a genuine grin. "He's new in town so of course I had to take him to see my favorite lady."

JoJo laughed and brushed off the compliment. "The usual?" she asked and Duo nodded. Then she turned to Heero. "What'll ya have, hun?" Duo was truly surprised when he ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and a chocolate milkshake. The choice seemed incredibly juvenile and for the second time that day that he found himself thinking of Heero as childlike.

But Duo said nothing of it as they were left alone again. Instead, he leaned back in the booth, casually resting his arms on the top edge.

"Have you really been to all those places?" he asked as a change of subject. "Afghanistan, Japan, Mexico, Italy...?"

Heero seemed perplexed by the conversation and it appeared to take a lot to drag him out of his deep, depressing thoughts. "And more."

"I can't even imagine everything you've seen," Duo murmured wistfully, trying to envision what kind of job let you travel like that. The kind that didn't allow for friends, he supposed.

That amused Heero though and he snorted. "No, you can't."

"One day you're going to have to tell me what you do, you know," Duo teased. "I want the kind of job that lets you travel all over then take months off."

"No, you don't," Heero replied quietly, staring at his thumbs. "I love my job, but I am my job."

"Eh," Duo cocked his head to the side to view Heero at a different angle. "I like to think I am my job too."

Heero shook his head. "Not like this. There is nothing else. I have nothing." For a minute, he seemed like he was going to break. Like he was going to crack and a million words were going to tumble out of him, his whole life story, everything that made him who he was would be divulged and Duo would be left with the very picture of his heart.

But he took a deep breath and composed himself. And their food came. And the moment was gone.

"I brought you some cookies on the house," JoJo explained as she set the plates down, then leaned in towards Duo to whisper – "Your friend looks like he could use some cheerin' up."

Heero stared at the offending chocolate chip cookie as if he could will it out of existence if he just tried hard enough. And then Duo thought he saw his eyes shimmer, like he was going to cry. But it had to be the light... right?

He took a deliberate – always deliberate – bite of his grilled cheese sandwich then set it down.

"My mother was a diner waitress," he said abruptly, his voice tight with emotion. "She would always bring me back something, every night. Usually a grilled cheese. With a chocolate chip cookie."

Duo reached across the table and very gently touched his fingertips to Heero's balled up fist.

"She was never home. And when she died, I didn't think anything changed. But it did. I went into the military to avoid thinking about it. But everything was different then." Heero paused and swallowed hard, still staring at his plate. Without even thinking about what he was doing, Duo gripped Heero's hand, fearing the words the other man was about to say.

"Then, I was alone," he finished somberly. They were just as painful as Duo feared.

"Like when my sister died," Duo mumbled sympathetically. It was the first time Heero looked up to meet his eyes since they'd sat down. Duo's breath caught in his throat. The anguish he saw there was unbearable. And those heartrending eyes longed for him to understand, for someone to have felt he pain he was feeling then.

"Our mother was a dysfunctional alcoholic who fell into a series of horrible relationships after my dad ditched us. They were all bad, you know, they'd hit her, or us, or spend all her money on alcohol or drugs so we couldn't eat... but none were as bad as the man she married. He..." Duo paused to catch his own breath this time. It was always a difficult thing to admit, despite his own personal directive to never hide from his past. "He messed with us. Really, my sister got the brunt of the abuse. I was too young, too little, I couldn't defend her. And mom, she... she never wanted to believe us. She didn't want him to leave, she loved him more than us." Now, Duo withdrew his hand from Heero's to protect himself subconsciously. He picked up his reuben and took a huge bite of it.

"Eventually he left, though, of course." Duo laughed sarcastically after he swallowed. "What made her think he would stay? But what he did never left us. It never left her. My sister..." he paused, suddenly feeling raw and exposed under Heero's painful gaze. "She committed suicide when I was fifteen. And then, _I _was alone."

Heero's gaze fell from him then and he picked his sandwich back up and they ate in a sad but comfortable silence for a few minutes.

"Thank you for telling me that," Heero finally said. "I've never told anyone about her."

Duo smiled wide, trying to expel the darkness that fell over his heart thinking about his sister. "No problem, buddy." And for a minute he wondered if this was his purpose – to give Heero hope again. To understand him and give him someone he can trust again. To bring him out of this dark place in his life and give him a brighter future.

* * *

After their discussion at the diner, Heero started going to Duo's apartment every morning. He would sit in the studio as the braided man worked, reading quietly, observing him, or listening to him expound upon one of his many interests. He would bring groceries and make them lunch. Sometimes, Hilde would come over and he'd make dinner for them all. Despite Hilde's hesitance to accept him, his cooking skills apparently went a pretty long way towards winning her over.

Duo didn't seem to mind this arrangement at all. Every morning he welcomed him in with a smile and a brief, one-sided hug. Duo would offer him a bagel and he'd decline, accepting a cup of plain coffee instead. Heero didn't really know if this was what normal friends did, but if it wasn't, he didn't want to know. He enjoyed this. It was comforting just to be in the presence of someone who understood him and had no expectations, who he didn't have to put up a front for and regurgitate carefully memorized lines for. Plus, it helped curb his overwhelming desire to procure more cocaine – a mistake that could easily cost him his job.

He began to realize he owed Duo a lot – a lot more than a few lunches and dinners. He still didn't know how exactly Duo painted all those pictures of him, but he was beginning to find he just didn't care any longer. It didn't seem to threaten him and he wasn't producing any more of them. But without knowing him at all, Duo accepted him into his life, no questions asked. He offered nothing but kindness to him no matter how negative or unkind he'd been. And he didn't want anything from him. Friendship, maybe, but he never forced it, willing to accept only what Heero felt comfortable giving. Never in his life had he met someone so genuine. And knowing that their time together would be limited, he was compelled to spend every moment he could with him.

Duo chattered happily about his interpretation of the myth of Icarus as he strung together delicate paper fabrications that were being attached to a large mobile. Heero couldn't say whether he cared for the piece Duo was creating, but it was incredibly time consuming and the attention the other man paid to the tiniest details was merit worthy in it's own right. Apparently this was a new type of installation piece for him, different than anything he'd previously done. Heero knew from the tone of his voice as he described it that he was nervous his clients wouldn't accept it, but Heero didn't know what to say to reassure him. His show was coming up soon and Duo had been foregoing his nightly soirees to work. At times Heero worried he was a distraction, but every night he left to go back to his own apartment, and when he returned the next morning Duo had rarely accomplished anything despite staying in.

"I've been there," Heero added quietly as Duo's voiced faded, his brows stitched together in concentration.

"Ahh, you've been everywhere!" Duo exclaimed with jealousy, looking up for a moment to gaze at him with smiling eyes. "What's it like? Icaria?"

"Oh, no, I was never on Icaria," Heero corrected. "When I was in Turkey, I was near the Icarian Sea. The water is the most brillant shade of blue..." Heero paused a moment, delving into the memory. It had only been a quick stop. He was tasked with pulling another agent out of the field before he was assassinated. Unfortunately, the word had come in last minute that he was discovered and Heero didn't make it in time. He wasn't even able to retrieve the body before it was dumped into the sea. He remembered staring out across the water for a long time, wishing he'd been there sooner, hoping the man would wash ashore so his family had something to bury...

"I'm sorry," he said as he pulled himself out of his thoughts. "I'm not the best with description."

"Eh," Duo dismissed it, his focus returned to the gossamer figure held delicately by his long fingers. "Maybe one day I'll go."

And then, his phone rang. Duo looked up at him and Heero looked back, so certain it wasn't his phone that when Duo asked him if he planned on answering it he jumped slightly, taken aback. Quickly he pulled it from his pocket and stared at the screen. The number wasn't one he knew, but he still knew immediately who it was.

Chang. His handler.

For a minute he contemplated not even answering. But reluctantly he found himself hitting the talk button and holding the phone to his ear.

"Hello." He knew who it was, it wasn't a question. But he didn't want to say the other man's name with Duo in the room.

"I thought you weren't going to answer." Chang's calm, cool voice sent a wave of nostalgia over him. They'd been working together the entire time he was with the CIA. That voice had been a lifeline to him so many times...

"I was considering it."

The silence on the other end clearly indicated his handler's displeasure, but he didn't ask him why. Instead, he asked, "Do you think you're ready?"

Knowing he was referring to the psych eval waiting for him upon his return, Heero sighed. "No," he admitted, suddenly feeling remorse that he wasn't taking this time off more seriously. He should've been pushing himself, alienating himself until he was forced to confront himself. Instead, he was playing around with an artist, cooking like a housewife, and relaxing like he was on vacation.

But damn it, didn't he give four solid years of his life to them? Didn't he deserve this?

"That's okay. I would've been suspicious if you said yes," Chang admitted and Heero was relieved. "You were in the field a long time. You can't be expected to have dealt with the repercussions of that in a few weeks. But at this point we like to offer you the opportunity to meet with one of our therapists if you so desire."

The suggestion made Heero feel physically nauseous. He couldn't imagine something he wanted to do less.

"Honestly, I don't think I'm ready even for that."

Chang made a clicking sound with his tongue, which Heero recognized as disappointment, but he didn't really care. It was the truth. Maybe if he'd had some glorious breakdown, maybe then he'd agree. At least, he could see then why a therapist might be needed. But watery eyes over the death of his mother once at lunch two weeks ago in the depressing aftermath of illicit drug use he couldn't very well admit hardly counted as any form of break down in his book.

"You know we will require you to meet with one regardless of how you feel within two months," Chang warned him.

"I suspected as much," Heero replied honestly. "I will consent at that time. I hope to have made some progress by then."

"Good." Chang did sound authentically pleased with him. "You have been a very easy agent to work with, Yuy. You are dedicated, driven, smart, and more than capable. You have earned a break and I haven't contacted you because you deserve your privacy. I look forward to continuing to work with you and therefore I like to think I have your best interests in mind. I will let you know when you need my help, but in the meanwhile, attempt to enjoy yourself. Civilian life can be difficult, but it is important that you remember why you do what you do. There should be no better reason than to protect those around you."

Heero stared at Duo, who was clearly attempting not to eavesdrop, and wondered sullenly if he could ever justify what he did as for 'the protection of those around him.' The truth was, he didn't do it for people like Duo. He didn't do it for people like his mom. He didn't do it for the greater good or the ignorant masses or any noble reason, the way he maybe should. He did it because he was damned good at it. He did it because it blocked out everything negative in his life. He did it so he wouldn't have to think.

"Yeah," was all he could say without jeopardizing his future with the organization.

"I'll be in touch," Chang said then, realizing there was nothing left Heero wanted to say.

As Heero hung up the phone he realized Duo's big eyes were studying him carefully, almost accusationally, questioning him about the call. But he stopped short of actually asking the question, for which Heero was glad.

"It was nothing, business," Heero explained casually, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

"You're not ready to go back?" Duo asked shyly, obviously not wanting to pry but his curiosity was overwhelming his ability to remain quiet.

"No," Heero replied honestly. "There's a lot I have to do to go back to work. This isn't exactly a vacation for me, I'm supposed to be preparing myself to go back. But my employer and I agree, I need some time off. I spent four years on my last project, I think I deserve a break."

"Hmm," Duo hummed and nodded his head, understanding that vague reply was all he was going to get out of him. But then his tone turned playful again as he refocused on his work. "One day you'll tell me what you do for a living."

Heero grunted, recognizing he was being teased and not actually pressured for information. "I doubt it."

"I'm pretty sure you doubted we'd be friends, too, when we first met, huh?" The smile that had been tweaking his lips was uncontainable at that point.

"Fair enough," Heero replied as he picked his book back up and resumed his study on the history of ballistic weaponry. But he was sure that smile stayed stuck on his friend's face for much longer than it'd warranted.


	7. Chapter 7

Okay, okay. Here goes nothing. I'm going to try to finish up this story tonight and post the rest of it over the course of the next week because I've got a big'un coming and I want to get this little guy finished. =) Thanks for sticking with it! Not long now... =P

Oh yeah, and because I said I'd warn ya, this chapter contains **m/m sexual interaction**. (Finally!)

* * *

Duo wore a grin only for himself as he took the elevator up to his apartment. The show went wonderfully. Although some people were a bit off-put by his bright and angelic body of work, mostly they were receptive and he'd sold many pieces that night. Heero had come too, looking unbelievably dashing in a demure grey suit, sipping champagne and staring with his signature boredom at everyone in the room. The memory made him chuckle. He'd been so pleased when Heero arrived, thinking that the despite the other man's overwhelming amount of attention last month Heero would ultimately feel too out of place and not show.

Unfortunately he found himself falling hopelessly for the strange, stoic man. He supposed it was inevitable. He'd spent so much time over the past eight years thinking about him, wondering who he was, staring into his eyes... Now that he was here and being so kind – how could he _not_ fall for him?

And sometimes he could swear those eyes were sweeping over him, admiring him, if only for a moment. But he shook his head, trying to banish those thoughts so that he wouldn't get his hopes up. Nothing Heero ever said indicated he was interested in men at all, let alone him.

Besides, he was quite aware Heero's time was limited. One day he'd return to his mystery job and Duo would be alone, again. He might not be able to see him any more, even with heroin...

"You're pathetic," he muttered under his breath as the elevator bell chimed and the doors slid open. He turned down his hall and was shocked to see a dark figure leaning against his door. As he got cautiously closer, he realized it was Heero. But Heero never came to his apartment at night. He'd thought he'd gone home...

"Heero?" he called carefully as he approached. Duo realized when he was only a few feet from him that his whole body was shaking. "Heero?" he asked again, reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder when his impossibly blue eyes turned up to meet his, his face wet with tears.

"Don't make me leave," Heero begged, his voice cracking.

"No, no," Duo comforted, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Heero fell into him, leaning his full weight into his body so that he had to re-stabilize himself before he could dig his key out and unlock the door.

They stumbled in together and Duo lead him to the bed and sat him down. He was going to switch on a light but Heero gripped his shirt in an unbelievably tight fist and so Duo sat down next to him. He found Heero pressing his face against his chest, sobbing uncontrollably. In spite of his surprise, Duo wrapped his arms around the other man's trembling shoulders, holding him tightly.

"I don't even know who I am," Heero whispered after an indeterminate length of time, after his sobbing slowed to a miserable cry.

"You're Heero Yuy," Duo replied calmly, trying to be what Heero needed, though he wasn't sure exactly what that was.

Heero shook his head, face still buried against his chest in a puddle of wet. "Who is that? Who is Heero?" he asked, his heart clearly breaking with the words. "I've spent so long pretending to be someone else, I don't even know me."

Duo stroked his hair, running his fingers through the unruly mop of silken thread. "You're a good man, Heero," he murmured. "You're smart and caring. You care so much about others that you separate yourself from them completely so you don't get hurt when you have to let them go." He chuckled then. "And you don't like art."

"Don't I?" Heero asked, pulling himself away. He rubbed his eyes on the back of his hands and set them dejectedly in his lap, staring at them helplessly. "I didn't even – I didn't even know I was gay." His voice was nothing but a strangled whine then, and Duo could tell how deeply the confession embarrassed him. But he had the distinct impression it wasn't being gay that bothered him as much as not knowing something so fundamental about himself. Unfortunately, Duo didn't know how he could possibly reply to that, though he was spared the attempt as Heero started again after collecting himself for a moment.

"Twenty-eight fucking years old and I didn't know...?" Disgust with himself was evident from his tone and his hands tightened into angry fists. "I just thought, maybe I was asexual, maybe sex wasn't meant to be fulfilling to everyone. I thought maybe I just didn't have the emotional capacity for it. I've appreciated the male figure on more than one occasion, but I didn't think... I pretended that too. I pretended everything.

"Do you know what that's like?" Heero's eyes met his then and they dug deep into him – so deeply Duo blushed with his exposure.

"No," he admitted softly, feeling sorry for his friend. "I pretty much always knew. Sometimes I wished it was different, sometimes I worried it was because of what _he_ did to me, but in the end, it's just a part of who I am." There was a long silence between them and they had both dropped their eyes, lost in their individual thoughts. But eventually Duo looked up at him, studying his profile against the city lights that leaked through his windows.

"What... happened?" he asked gently.

Heero sighed, seeming extremely uncomfortable. "You have to understand, I haven't let anyone this close to me... ever. I have been trying. You... you won me over and so I've been trying to be friends. I thought that was what I had to do..." Although Duo didn't understand what he was getting at, he listened patiently. And then those eyes turned up to meet his again. They seemed filled with fear and regret.

"I work for the CIA. I'm an undercover operative. That's why I was so concerned about those pictures. I probably shouldn't be telling you this, I never intended to, but you have to understand, I just got off a four-year assignment. For four years I've acted a part, played a role, I..." he paused, obviously unhappy with confessing this to him. "I'm supposed to take this time off to rediscover who I am, normalize myself, so to speak. But I've never been normal..."

"It's okay," Duo interjected.

"No, it's not," Heero continued, shaking his head. "I was using you to get to where I need to be. I didn't expect any of this. But tonight..." His breath hitched and Duo worried he might start crying again. "Tonight, when you touched me..."

It was just a little thing, Duo recalled. Maybe even a bit selfish on his part, as Heero's good looks were irresistible to him. He'd rested his hand on the small of his back for a moment while he showed him around the gallery. But Heero had stiffened up and Duo let his hand fall away, hoping he hadn't offended him.

"I've never felt that way before," he breathed out all at once. Duo felt his eyes wide as saucers as he stared at the man he'd longed for over all these years, unwilling to believe he was really there, sitting on his bed, confessing his analogous desire.

He turned back to Duo then, lifting his hand and warily, carefully, touching it ever so lightly against his cheek. Duo yearned to lean into the touch, press those gentle fingers closer to his skin, but he found himself immobilized by the fear that this was all just a hopeless conjecture of his mind.

"I want you so badly," he whispered, the words barely audible against the pounding of Duo's heart.

And without either initiating the action they were suddenly locked together in a fumbling, clumsy kiss of desperation and yearning, fighting to mesh themselves so tightly that they would never have to part again. Duo buried his fingers in Heero's hair, forcing his face against his, unwilling to let him escape even as their breathing came ragged and intermittent in the small seconds their lips would stray. He felt Heero's strong hands on his hips as he pulled him forward into his lap and Duo straddled him willingly, moaning loudly into his mouth as his wanton hips slipped snuggly against the other man's, fueling the heat between them. Heero's hands gripped his waist so tightly then he was sure he'd find bruises in the morning, but Duo couldn't think straight enough to care.

Duo's hips bucked unwittingly against Heero and he felt every inch of the other man's erection stuffed uncomfortably in those suit pants. He found his hands wandering down Heero's neck and into his suit jacket, sliding across his sides and feeling how muscular he was, surprised at how ignorant he'd been of that fact. He pulled the shirt out and felt that hard stomach for himself, his desire rising such that he found himself shuddering and he had to break their kiss. Heero just moved his mouth down his face and into his neck, nipping at it and playing with the sensitive flesh there, doing nothing but making Duo's condition worse.

"Fuck," he groaned out, gripping Heero's belt buckle shakily and fumbling to get it undone as Heero moved on to his ear. When he finally succeeded, it was Heero's turn to be forced to stop due to the overwhelming sensations he was feeling as Duo's nimble fingers stroked the length of his cock.

"Better?" Duo teased, staring at the handsome man sitting on his bed with heavy, half-lidded eyes.

Heero didn't answer, he just returned the stare and stood, lifting Duo up and throwing him down on the bed on his back. Duo was so surprised he found himself laughing as Heero settled on top of him, rubbing their hips together to purposefully leave Duo panting.

"'Ro, I can't," he begged pitifully, knowing if Heero kept this intensity up he'd come against his will.

Heero paused for a moment, staring down at him, and Duo's heart felt like it was doing flip-flops in his chest.

"I've never done this before," he admitted quietly as they both took a moment to catch their breath. Duo figured Heero didn't want to give up enough control to be bottom on his first foray into the wonderful world of gay sex so he sat up, lifting Heero's chin and kissing him on the forehead.

"It's okay," he comforted. "I'll help you."

Heero sat back down on the bed, seeming a little forlorn and confused, as Duo stood and dropped his pants, throwing off his own suit jacket and digging in the nightstand for lube and a condom. He set them on the bed before he pushed Heero backwards, climbing on top of him and kissing him full on the mouth, refueling the fire between them. Heero still seemed nervous but Duo could tell it was doing nothing to lessen his desire and so he sat back on his legs, yanking down his pants a little further before slipping the condom on him and covering him in lube.

Heero watched from his reclined position and Duo could tell he was studying his every action, making sure he would never be caught in this predicament again. It amused Duo and he took a few moments to relax himself before he sat up on his knees again, positioning himself over Heero.

"Don't move," he warned him and he reached behind himself to steady his cock before he settled down upon it. They both groaned as Duo took him in, slowly, inch by painstaking inch. Heero thrashed his head, his hands balled into fists, clutching the sheets desperately, but he heeded Duo's warning and kept his hips still. When Duo finally accomplished the task he sat with his shoulders slumped, breathing deeply, whimpering at the feeling of Heero's dick throbbing inside him.

And then he began to move. Heero's reaction was worth any pain he'd received and his lips curled as he watched the man writhe in pleasure. Pleasure Duo was giving him. Pleasure he may well have never felt before.

He picked up one of Heero's hands, pouring lube haphazardly into it and placing it against his own aching erection. Heero immediately responded, stroking its length roughly, teasing him by speeding up and slowing down, clearly deriving amusement from Duo's guttural moans of conflicted gratification and agony. But quickly Heero was overrun by his own need for release and Duo could tell when he was through playing around.

He felt his own orgasm build until he was overwhelmed and with a needy, lusty moan he tipped over the edge, slamming down on Heero's hips as he came. Heero bucked up against him, unable to move much as his muscles clenched around his cock, but he shoved up into him three more times before he came, dragging Duo down upon him and kissing him ardently, honestly, deliberately as his hips convulsed in satisfaction and finally came to a stop.

Heero laughed for a moment, a sound more beautiful than Duo thought he'd ever heard before, his body trembling in his euphoria, as Duo planted kisses on his cheeks and chin and neck and shoulders. And he slipped off him carefully so that he could lie there against his chest, listening to his pounding heart and knowing in that moment what perfection was.

* * *

Heero's eyes fluttered as slowly, painfully he regained consciousness. It had been a long time since he had slept that deeply and it perplexed him a moment until he realized he was unusually warm. Then the gentle sighing of Duo's breath registered and he recognized as he cracked his eyes open that he was still twisted around the other man, his head cradled in one of those strong, masculine arms, the other thrown over his waist. A lazy smile floated across his face before he even realized it and he slid a hand down the other man's torso, a little moan escaping Duo's lips.

He supposed most people didn't find discovering their homosexuality comforting, but nothing could've made Heero happier. For the first time since his singular high school girlfriend, he was planning to sleep with the same person twice. But this time he would actually enjoyed it. In fact he smiled at his erection pushing against Duo's thigh, wanting to wake his newfound lover up just to verify his findings. Instead he let him sleep, his eyes tracing every inch of his face, carefully cementing every detail in his memory so that he would never forget this wonderful person to whom he owed so much. There was no need to be hasty. They had time. Heero would make sure they had time.

The thought of work and Chang and the psych eval made his stomach churn anxiously so he resolved not to think about it. Right then he just wanted to live one day at a time, exploring Duo and the depths of his own heart, resolving that he simply wouldn't worry about work until Chang called him again in another month or so. This was good for him, he knew it. Duo helped him learn something about himself he could never have discovered on his own. Something that gave him an inner peace he'd never even realized he was missing. If this wasn't what this forced break was for then he wasn't sure what was.

"Thank you," he whispered, lifting a hand to stroke the tendrils of Duo's silky hair away from his cheek with a gentle thumb. Duo leaned graciously into the touch. He was obviously coming to because the arm around Heero's waist was removed so that he could cup Heero's hand in his own, slipping his fingers slightly between them.

Then Duo's eyes slid open and they seemed to be smiling at him when he got a glimpse of them as he turned his head so that their noses almost touched.

"Morning," he mumbled sleepily, the arm pinned under Heero's head moving so that he could stroke his shoulder. The simple touch felt like fire and he physically ached for Duo. He'd foolishly never realized how much sexual attraction mattered – how overwhelming desire could be. A pang of guilt cut through him as he thought back on Relena and all their arguments, how devastated she must've been to know she didn't make him feel this way...

Heero thumbed his chin as he stared into those endless eyes, leaning in to kiss him softly after a moment. Duo was smiling when they parted and he turned over onto his side. Heero's breath caught and his hips twitched forward as their hard cocks met clandestinely between them.

"_Good_ morning," Duo restated with a husky laugh, though Heero wasn't quite as amused. He'd never had so little control over his own body in his entire life.

"Aw don't be sore," Duo teased. "I can't help the affect I have on unsuspecting men."

Heero's frown deepened as he slipped his hands under the sheets, across Duo's strong form until they settled on his hips, and yanked him tight against his body, making him gasp in his own desire.

"Fair's fair I suppose," he admitted when he regained composure and smirked, nuzzling his nose against Heero's before claiming his lips as his own, Duo's tongue flirting with Heero's, his fingers circling his nipples languidly.

He didn't realize his hips were rocking until Duo's fingers traced the rippling muscles of his abs down to embrace his throbbing dick, stroking it and eliciting a deep groan from him. But he quickly collected himself and returned the favor, both of them fighting to bring the other to completion first.

They kissed tenderly for several minutes, spent and sweaty under the heavy sheets.

"Why don't you take a shower first?" Duo offered. "I'll clean up around here and be in in a minute."

Heero was incredibly reluctant to leave the bed, afraid that once he did the spell would be broken and he would be miserable again, fighting himself and all his walls and reservations for a sliver of happiness.

Seeming to sense his fear, Duo gripped one of his hands tightly in his own. "It's okay," he assured quietly. "I'll still be here."

With all the strength he could muster he forced himself out and felt Duo rake appreciative eyes over his naked body. It made him feel vulnerable for a moment until he looked back and caught Duo's expression. He looked shy and unsure of himself, like he couldn't believe someone with Heero's physique would ever wake up in his bed. So he grinned a tiny, self-satisfied grin and walked back to the bathroom with his pride intact and buoyed.

Duo slipped into the shower just as Heero was getting out and his breath caught in his throat when he saw that gorgeous unbound mass of chestnut hair cascading around his shoulders. He made a mental note to release the other man's hair the next time they slept together so that he could truly enjoy it. Duo warned him it would take a while to wash and dry as he shut the glass door to the shower.

Kindly Duo had set a towel and a brand new toothbrush out for him and he used both. He wrapped the towel around his waist before walking back out to the living area, not exactly looking forward to getting back into his surely rumpled suit. But there he found sitting on the coffee table a plain black T-shirt and some jeans that were definitely bigger than Duo's size, even a little too big for him, and a black coffee with an unpeeled orange. How well Duo knew him for their short time together. He hated starting his day with carbs, although a package of bagels was sitting out, evidence of Duo's preferred breakfast.

The tee he'd been offered was well worn and smelled like Duo and he found it comforting as he sipped his coffee, staring out across the city skyline thoughtfully. He wasn't sure how long they could make this work, or how long he would be able to stay there, but at least he knew _this_ was all he wanted. This was surely perfection.

After about thirty minutes Duo reappeared in nothing but a faded pair of jeans with a towel across his shoulders, his hair still somewhat damp. Heero took a moment to reaffirm his feelings about that handsome body.

"Would you help me with this?" he asked carefully, indicating his hair. Heero didn't mind and certainly didn't want to hurt his feelings so he set down his nearly empty coffee mug and settled down on the clean sheets of the freshly made bed with him.

Gently and systematically he ran a brush through his long hair, banishing any knots with delicacy. Duo seemed to purr under his ministrations and it gave Heero a warm feeling he'd never known. It was nice to do something kind for someone you cared about, he decided. It was an opportunity he'd never really had before, but one which he would definitely have to partake in more with Duo.

Using his military knowledge he wove the hair into a tight plait, tying off the end with a proffered elastic band. When he was satisfied he bent down to place a kiss on Duo's bare shoulder, feeling goosebumps rise against his lips.

Suddenly a wash of feelings came over him and he found himself wrapping his arms around Duo's chest, laying his head on his back, swallowing hard to keep his depressing thoughts at bay. Duo was more empathetic than that, however. He placed his own hands over Heero's and quietly asked what was wrong with fear in his voice, betraying his own worry that Heero would say that this was over.

So he felt Duo's surprise when he asked instead, "Do you know why I was recruited by the CIA?"

"Because you were the best damned soldier east of the Mississippi?" Duo offered, amusement ringing in his voice.

"Maybe a little," Heero admitted, unable to squash his abundance of self-confidence in his abilities even considering the story he was about to divulge. "But no. I was deemed unfit for teamwork by my commanding officer."

"Nooooo," Duo intoned, trying to keep the conversation light. "You were a pretty good team player last night."

Heero snorted. "Unfortunately they were right. I didn't realize it until many years later, though." The memory of Hideaki telling him he was a liability, a lone wolf, that he couldn't be trusted played back through his mind. The fear that ran through then was still palpable in his veins. He was so sure he was going to die that Christmas night.

"What happened?" Duo asked softly, squeezing his wrists.

Heero sighed, appreciating the warmth of Duo's back. "I was on a specialized task force to take out a Taliban leader. There were eight of us. We infiltrated the stronghold and then shit hit the fan. They were expecting us, I guess. I managed to avoid the heavy fire because," he paused and in an exceptional show of emotion, tears sprang to his eyes, "because my teammates took the bullets for me. I took out the target at the expense of my team. Looking back I... I could've saved them." His throat constricted as tears rolled down his face and onto Duo's back.

"I could've saved some of them if I would've just paused and taken a shot. But I was too selfish and single-minded. I viewed them as acceptable losses, I thought nothing was as important as the target. They let me live, and I let them die." His grip on Duo was impossibly tight, probably so tight he was having difficulty breathing, but he didn't flinch, he just let Heero hold him. If he was disgusted or scared or disappointed, he didn't let it show, and Heero appreciated it more than he would ever know.

"And for what? What do I deserve? There is no one who loved me, no one I loved." His voice was little more than a choked sob at this point, but he couldn't stop himself. "I took away a child's father that day. Not the Taliban. _I_ did that."

Duo forced his arms off of him and turned to face him, wrapping him up in his warmth and cradling him against his chest. Heero could hear his heart beating over his pathetic, quiet sniveling.

"My heart hurts," he muttered, a fist clenched tightly against his chest where his heart resided, pulsing pain through his body with every pump. "I've never felt like this, before, I... You make me feel all these things I've never felt. I've spent my whole life running from this and now..."

"Now you have to embrace it," Duo murmured, stroking his cheek as he brought his face up to meet his eyes. "You have to live for those men, to make their sacrifice worthwhile." He kissed him, gently, lovingly. "I stand by what I said." He kissed him again. "You are a good man." And again. "But sometimes good men get lost." Heero let himself melt against those sweet lips, allowing himself to believe Duo's words for just a moment.

Maybe he could be a good man. Maybe he could learn how to live. Maybe, with Duo's help, he could be happy.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** I am getting anxious to start posting my trilogy in the next week or so... so I decided to tie up some loose ends and finish this story up this week (as well as 'Tonight is the Night' and a one shot...!) =) Thank you for reading!

* * *

Duo's entire body hurt. His eyesight was blurry. He felt around the bed desperately, reaching out for Heero before his memories caught up with him and he realized with a sickening twist of his stomach that Heero wasn't there.

They had spent a lovely week in bed, rolling around, kissing, making passionate love, wrapped up in each other. They even ate their meals in bed, swapping stories about their lives, laughing and crying, divulging everything that made them who they were. Duo ran out to get groceries once and they ran down to the gallery together twice to check on the exhibit and schmooze with anyone that happened to be there viewing his work. But mostly they spent their days enjoying their time together, soaking in every moment they had before Heero had to check back in with his handler.

And then, Saturday morning Heero ran down to the corner store to pick up a few supplies and he didn't come back.

The ache in Duo's heart threatened to rip him apart remembering that gentle kiss and those kind eyes promising he'd return quickly.

How could he lie to him like that? What kind of man promises something like that then disappears, running back to his job without a second thought?

He wanted to be angry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to burn his whole apartment to the ground in his rage. But all he could feel was sorrow. Sorrow and regret at what could've been. Abject humiliation that he was so naïve and infatuated to think that there could've been anything at all.

His stomach churned and he sat up quickly, the whole world pitching wildly around him and before he even realized what he was doing he found himself retching painfully into the sheets, his abs aching and tears rimming his pained eyes. His body shook as he dry heaved, willing his rebelling stomach to stop. He let himself cry for a moment, wishing he'd just died instead of being forced to experience this kind of pain. He could've just taken a bit more heroin, overdosed, fallen asleep forev...

Then last night hit him like a steamroller and he threw the disgusting sheets off himself and tried to leap off the bed, falling to his knees and crashing hard on the ground. The world around him spun and he forced himself to lie there until his nausea subsided and the world stood still.

He remembered getting hammered, again. He'd spent the past three days in a drunken haze once he'd given up on the idea that Heero was coming back. He remembered the overwhelming craving he had for heroin and how he hit Dobbins up for some. He remembered praying over the needle last night, begging for the chance to see Heero one last time.

In that moment, curled up on his knees, his forehead pressed to the floor, he prayed again, sick, and scared, and afraid that there would be nothing on the canvas when he made to his studio.

Cautiously he stood, walking slowly as he gained his balance. He let his shoulder lean against the wall of the hallway as he made his way down to the studio, throwing the door open and staring at an easel in the corner. Quickly he lurched across the large room, staring at the painting there with disbelieving eyes. How could he not remember?!

It was dark, and in the middle of it was Heero. Duo touched his figure with gentle fingers as tears leaked down his cheeks. He looked so alone. He was shirtless, his body battered and bleeding, his arms twisted cruelly over his head, roped together and attached to the wall by a giant hook so his feet dangled off the ground. Duo found himself trembling as he stared at his lover, being tortured and abused before his eyes. A cold vise wrapped round his heart as he realized Heero might already be dead.

But what could he do? He wasn't able to choose what he saw in these visions – he couldn't ask for a location or any other specific information that might help him find the other man.

His mind raced and he tried to clear it and think straight. Why did he have to be so fucked up? Why couldn't he have tried to be sober for half a minute? Of course Heero didn't leave him of his own free will. He wouldn't have left him without saying goodbye.

His phone! The idea came to him in a stroke of genius and he rushed back to the living area, noting the phone was where he'd left it, sitting on his dresser. Why didn't he think of it before? Heero never left his phone if he was going to be gone for more than thirty minutes. It was his duty to remain in contact with HQ if needed.

With shaking hands he looked at it, drawing up the list of incoming calls. There was only one number. It wasn't listed in the address book, but he knew immediately who it was. Heero had only ever received one call and Duo had overheard it and put two and two together last week and realized it had to be his handler.

Duo took a deep breath and hit call.

* * *

Chang Wufei glared at his phone with reservation. If he had to take one more call from Director Une he was surely going to –

But he noted the number and his brows stitched together in concern. Heero only called him a handful of times, and typically only when a situation was nearly impossible to fix. He considered taking back his negativity over Une. Surely she would've been easier to deal with.

"Agent?" he answered cautiously.

"Is this Heero Yuy's handler?" The voice on the other end sounded equally cautious. Wufei was already pulling up the people search databases for court records, felony charges, and arrests.

"Who is this?" he asked, hoping the man on the other end had a unique name that he would be willing to divulge.

"Duo Maxwell."

He typed the name into the three different databases quickly and to keep him talking asked, "And how do you know Heero?"

"We're... I..." there was a long pause and Wufei was almost scared he lost him, but apparently he was just attempting to define their relationship because he finally replied, "I'm his lover."

Wufei blinked, surprised at that statement. Heero had never listed himself as a homosexual in any of their documentation and many of his mission reports had notations where he'd engaged in sexual intercourse with women. There was no reason Heero had to hide his preference and the fact that the typically overly honest agent would've done so was disconcerting and unlikely.

"He's never mentioned you before," Wufei stalled as the databases returned information. Duo had a fine for a class A misdemeanor – marijuana possession. He also had two restraining orders filed against older men, but nothing else incriminating on his record.

Duo seemed frustrated. "I didn't call to be interrogated! Now are you responsible for him or not?"

"Yes," Wufei finally answered straight. "He's my agent."

"He's not there, then?" he sounded unsure of himself.

Wufei sighed and rubbed his forehead. He really didn't have time for this. "I'm not here to answer to jilted lovers," he snapped. He thought he heard Duo physically bristle on the other end.

"You don't understand – I think he's in trouble!"

Wufei straightened in his chair. "What?"

"He disappeared five days ago and he left everything here. His phone, his keys, everything. I thought maybe... maybe he went back without saying goodbye but it doesn't make any sense. Why would he leave everything here?"

Wufei thought this over for a minute. It was very unlike Heero to simply vanish like that. And he certainly would've checked in if he was leaving the city.

"Okay. I'm going to need your contact information. And you must keep this phone on you at all times. I will contact you through it if I have any further questions. You will not be allowed to leave the city until I give you permission in case we need to bring you in for interrogation. Do you understand?" The harsh tone of Wufei's voice left no room for argument.

"Of course," Duo agreed readily, rattling off his address, phone number, full name, and assuring Wufei that he would be available night or day if they needed him. That willingness added a great amount of credibility to Duo's story in Wufei's eyes. He asked him when the last time he saw Heero was, what he had been doing the previous week, how they met, and a few other details.

Taking down Hideaki was a dangerous assignment. Surely he had men working for him to find Heero. They tried to pull him out carefully but it obviously didn't take them very long to figure out who the plant was. Wufei should've never have agreed to let him return to civilian life without a security detail.

Wufei ended the call after getting all the pertinent information he could out of Duo. Shit. He slid open his top drawer and pulled out some aspirin. The next few days were going to be difficult...

* * *

Surprise! A Wufei chapter! That was kind of unexpected. ;-) But I hate reading the type of chapter I would've written if I had done Heero's perspective so just thank me that I spared you the boredom. :-P


	9. Chapter 9

As always, warnings on part one. ;-) Sorry for hogging the heck outta the updates page this week haha.

* * *

"What are you looking for?" Hilde asked carefully from her spot on the couch next to him. Duo had drug it over to the windows and was staring out them at the street, one leg propping up his chin with an arm thrown around it, clinging to the cell phone, the other loosely cradling a pipe he'd smoked hours ago.

"I don't know," Duo murmured back. "I'll know it when I see it."

He couldn't remember when Hilde arrived. He couldn't remember when it was he called her. He checked the cell phone in his hand and noted that it had been almost 24 hours since he'd spoke to Heero's handler. His heart sank into his stomach and he muttered curses under his breath. What were they doing? Heero could be dead by now and they didn't fucking care?

Hilde laid a comforting hand on his back, rubbing his shoulders gently. "It's okay. I'm sure they've already found him and they just haven't called you yet. They're probably making arrests right now."

Duo dragged his eyes reluctantly away from the street to meet hers and he gave her a weak smile. "Thanks. You're a great friend." He'd told her everything he felt he could, leaving out his drug induced visions and Heero's involvement with the CIA. He was sure she didn't completely understand what was going on, but she didn't pry and he was thankful he didn't have to lie to her.

His eyes slid back to the road below and then he saw it. Two black vehicles with tinted windows sitting in the curbside parking across the street.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck...!" With a speed that would've impressed him had he thought about it, he dropped his pipe and jumped over the back of the couch.

"Duo?!" Hilde called, but he was already out the door, flying down the forty flights of stairs as quickly as possible. He burst threw the doors, running across the street, dodging taxis and pedestrians, his lungs burning but his desperation fueling him forward.

When he finally reached the black cars he pounded against the passenger window of the one nearest him. It took a moment but the window rolled down and a Chinese man in a button-up leaned across the seats to look at him with misgiving.

"Are you...? Are... You..." he panted, leaning heavily on the car. Smoking that bowl obviously wasn't conducive to the amount of physical exertion he'd just undertook and he was kicking himself for doing it.

"Who are you?" the words were cool and gave Duo the same uncomfortable feeling he'd gotten when on the phone with the man he had to be yesterday.

"Duo Maxwell," he replied breathlessly and those dark eyes widened in surprise.

"What?" he asked dubiously.

"Duo Maxwell, you know, Heero's – you're his handler, right?"

"Right," the other man answered, seeming uncomfortable with being forced to admit that.

Duo pulled at the door handle, but it was locked. "Well, let me in!"

"No!" he shot back. "I can't have boyfriends running willy-nilly through investigations."

"Well, I'm coming if I have to crawl through the window!" Duo threatened.

"I'm the one who put Yuy in this predicament and I'm the one who will get him out," he stated simply, and the window started to roll up. Duo clutched the slowly closing window until there was only a slit left, keeping his fingers from being crushed. He could hear the other man sigh and Duo pushed his eyes against the crack, summoning his best Heero-style glare.

"Yeah, maybe, but he's going to be fucked up on all your damned CIA mind game bullshit and I'm not going to leave him to suffer through that alone! So let me into this damned car or I'll draw so much attention to you the whole damned city will know you're here!" He was embarrassed that he was shouting at the other man but he felt panicked and terrified and he didn't want to see him leave. He had to go to Heero. He _had_ to. He was the only person who could understand him. Maybe some fucking shrink with their years and years of education and experience would think they understood, but they weren't alone. Not like Heero was. Not like he was. They probably had a lovely little family to go home to with a white picket fence protecting their heart. They couldn't possibly understand the isolating ghetto surrounding Heero's.

The Chinese man said nothing for a moment but to his shock and relief, he heard the car doors unlock and Duo tentatively moved one hand down to test the handle. It popped open and he grinned from ear to ear, throwing himself into the vehicle with satisfaction. The other man muttered something about liabilities under his breath as he relocked the doors and rolled the window up the rest of the way.

He felt those black eyes on him, studying him in a way he'd often been studied, pegging him as flamboyant, outlandish, strange. Duo flipped his braid over his shoulder self consciously, twisting the end of it absentmindedly as he tried to settle down.

"So, what's the plan?" he asked, side-eyeing the handler.

"I'm intrigued Yuy chose a ... man ... like you," he deflected, obviously startled that Heero had chosen a man at all.

"Yeah, yeah, there's no accounting for taste," Duo shrugged, finally meeting his gaze again. It had softened a little but it didn't look like his pinched expression got much softer than that.

"My name is Chang," he said, but didn't offer him a handshake or anything of that nature so Duo just nodded his head to acknowledge it. It was clear he was lucky to be sitting in that car at all, so he decided to shut up and follow Chang's plan, whatever that was.

"When we reach the rendezvous point, I'm going to have you wait in the ambulance," he directed after a moment. "There's nothing you can do to help us and I don't want you in the way. I'll concede that it may be somewhat helpful to have you there in case his mind has been altered, but we don't know exactly what condition he'll been in when we find him, so don't pull any of these kinds of stunts with the medical team. Otherwise, I will have you silenced by any means necessary." The threat sent a shiver down Duo's spine and he nodded vigorously.

"Sir?" the driver said, turning to meet Chang's gaze. "They've narrowed his position to sector B4. We're going to head that way now."

Chang made a clicking sound with his tongue to indicate his pleasure as the car rolled forward. "Fast. That new tech is good." He scrolled through a handheld electronic device, nodding his head subtly. "They didn't take him far," he assessed. Then that stare was pinned back on Duo.

"What do you know of these men?"

"N-nothing," Duo stuttered out. "I don't know who they are at all. Heero told me very little about his work for you, and almost nothing about his most recent assignment other than that he was in Japan for four years."

Chang hummed and stared at him thoughtfully. "Good. The less you know, the better. It would be best if you didn't return to your apartment for some time. In fact, it would be best if you moved. And if you let us relocate you."

"The less I know the better?!" Duo gaped. "You want me to move because I'm being threatened but you don't want me to know by what?"

Chang seemed to consider those words thoughtfully. "Maybe I'll change my stance on that, but right now –" Suddenly he stopped and he pressed two fingers to his ear. Duo realized he must have some sort of communication device there that he didn't notice since he'd mostly faced profile and it was on his right side.

"Okay." Pause. "Our ETA is three minutes." Pause. "Don't move in until I'm on scene." Pause. "Okay."

Duo waited for a long minute and then Chang turned back to him.

"I don't have to tell you anything Yuy says in an incapacitated mental state is classified and not to be repeated on penalty of treason, right?"

Duo swallowed hard and nodded. This guy did not fuck around.

"Do..." he started softly, fear coursing through his veins like wildfire. "Do you really think he'll be that messed up?" Duo felt silly for even asking. He saw the condition Heero was currently in. He hoped it was a bit exaggerated but he knew the truth. By this point, it was probably worse.

Chang didn't mince words. "I think it's very likely. Assuming he's still alive."

The callous way Chang stated what Duo wouldn't even let himself think made him want to simultaneously punch the other man in the jaw and break down into doleful sobs.

"You can't fucking say that!" he wailed instead, horrified at the creepy quality his voice took on with his conflicted emotions.

"Look, I can't negate the facts," Chang said. "I would be personally distraught to find Yuy dead. He is a remarkable field operative and a decent human being. But I have to be prepared to face reality and the fact of the matter is he's been held captive by some terrible people for almost a week now. I don't really understand what their motivation would be for keeping him alive."

Duo deflated then, feeling exhausted from all the adrenaline that had been pumping through his system until that moment. Chang was right. He had to prepare himself for the worst. But how could you prepare yourself for the possibility that you might find someone you cared so deeply about dead within the next hour?

The car stopped and Chang got out, opening Duo's door and dragging him out by his arm. Duo got the impression he wasn't leading him in such a childish fashion for his ego, but merely for efficiency. The double doors to an unmarked ambulance swung open on their approach and Chang was greeted by the two med-techs waiting patiently inside.

"This is Duo Maxwell," he explained, letting Duo go and indicating he was to climb up there with them. "He's going to be waiting here with you. He is Yuy's partner and he insisted he be there when Yuy is found." Duo nodded to the two techs and tried to give them a grateful smile before he turned back to face Chang. His face clouded darkly as he stared at Duo. His next words were directed to the techs, but his eyes never left Duo. "If he becomes insistent again, don't hesitate to do whatever it takes to subdue him."

The techs assured him they would be able to handle him and Duo was lead to a small seat in the back where he sat, anxiety twisting his stomach in knots. The doors slammed shut as Chang left and he was faced with a cramped space and two curious men staring at him anxiously.

"You don't look like any CIA operative I've ever seen," the taller one with golden hair started, a slight country accent distorting his words. "They usually try to be less conspicuous..."

"Yeah, how long have you been assigned as Yuy's partner?" the shorter, older one with prematurely graying hair asked skeptically.

Duo started to giggle then, realizing they didn't understand the type of 'partner' Chang was referring to. His laughter rose and overrode any rational thought he had left. Tears streamed down his cheeks and his sides ached. He knew the techs must've thought he'd lost his mind but all the stress and anxiety of the past six days washed over him and he couldn't stop.

He couldn't wait to tell Heero about this.

* * *

Heero heard voices but he couldn't understand what they were saying. He felt like he was underwater, everything was muffled and distorted. And it had to be night because when he stared at the sky he could only see the moon, one bright source of light in utter darkness. His whole body hurt, his arms beyond sore from swimming as he floated there, wondering why he hadn't drowned already.

It would be so nice to drown...

Let this cruel world go...

He bordered on unconsciousness for a moment before a memory bubbled up from the back of his brain, reminding him that voices meant pain and he tried to roll, twist, float down and escape them but he couldn't even flinch and his back already rested on the cold, hard ocean floor.

He heard several loud bangs and though they sounded familiar to him he couldn't remember what they were. He hadn't heard a noise like that since his time underwater and his previous, land-loving life eluded him so often.

He let his tired eyes fall closed, listening to the sea current rushing in his ears. Ahhh but it was soothing to his weary mind and tired body. He wondered how long he'd float there before he washed up on the shore... Maybe never...? He stared at the ocean once, once when he was on the land, waiting for a body to float up, and it never came. He could stay in this dark hole forever? It comforted him and he breathed out a sigh of relief, trying to inhale water to speed up the process of his welcomed death but for some puzzling and unfortunate reason his mouth was dry and full of air. Ugh but it was so dry. Why was it so dry? His tongue and lips were cracked and sore and hurt to move. Maybe the saltwater was corroding him. Maybe, instead of drowning, he'd rust? Of course! It made so much sense now. He couldn't drown or move or do anything but sit on the sea floor because he was made of iron. He wanted to laugh at himself but his abs, lungs, and diaphragm were too leaded. How could he forget something so fundamental about himself?

That's why he couldn't feel. That's why he was alone. That's why he lived his land life like he was only watching other people's lives unfold around him while he stood still. He was just a statue, an unliving, unbreathing hunk of metal adorning everyone else's living room. But then an unsettling thought surfaced in his mind. What was he doing down here? Was he outdated? Did no one want him any more? He thought... what? It tickled the back of his brain and he struggled to grasp the elusive thought. Didn't he find a home that appreciated him? An artist who understood his composition? Obviously not. He'd been discarded in the ocean.

For some reason he couldn't understand, this made him sad. So sad. He didn't expect iron was supposed to feel anything, but his heart seemed to ache and he pressed his eyes tight against the unfamiliar pain. He soaked in it a moment, begging it to hurt him enough that his mind would shut off and he didn't have to feel it any more...

Once again he slid along the edge of unconsciousness until he felt ropes dig into his sides. Was he being excavated?! He felt panic rising within him. He didn't want to leave this place, deal with a world who didn't understand him, abandoned by the only person who had! He wanted to scream at them to stop but no sound came from his iron pipes. The pain of being lifted off the sand was excruciating. He felt rumbling from within him and his mouth fell open but he didn't know if he produced any sound at all. How could they do this to him?! He had found peace down here! Didn't they understand that? Selfish fuckers pulling him out to stick him in some damned museum exhibit. Underwater artifacts. To be gawked at for the rest of his life until he was shut in the coffin of a back room.

He felt himself being repositioned on something soft. It surprised him. His head fell to the side and he forced his eyes open but all he could see were waving reeds around him until they dispersed and he began to move again. The voices were louder, right next to him. They were... what? Loud. He couldn't place an emotion but then what did iron know of emotions? Hurried. Yeah. That was something. What were they hurrying for?

Suddenly they burst through the surface of the water and Heero gasped in agony, realizing it wasn't night at all. The sun was cruel and astronomically painful to his eyes, which had become accustomed to his watery grave. He slammed them closed against the abuse and he felt his hands tighten a little, already balled into fists. His hands? He could still move his hands? He hadn't been able to do that before... But fuck, they hurt too, all pins and needles and agony.

Christ, why hadn't they just let him corrode down there?

Then he was submerged in a sweet darkness again. Not quite as deep as the sea but he appreciated it nonetheless. He felt his breathing slacken and he relaxed a little as something soft and soothing stroked his forehead. He tried to lick his lips to speak, to ask for more of that heavenly touch, but he'd forgotten how his mouth had rusted and he tasted that sharp, metallic tang on his tongue, sliding uncomfortably down his throat, when he'd tried.

The voices were there still but one was soft and sad and he... it seemed so familiar... Then that touch cradled his jaw so gently and tiny little pats landed all over his forehead like a gentle rain. He wanted to smile, he wanted to cry, he wanted to soak in that spring shower and quench his parched lips in its sweet bounty...

But he could only lie there, stone through and through, basking in the feeling that touch brought him.

Feeling...? Could he... could he really feel? His last thought before he lost consciousnesses was the desperate question: could those cool and gentle fingers transform him from an iron husk into a real man...?


	10. Chapter 10

All warnings on part one.

* * *

Duo had paced the room probably a hundred times before he took to shifting uncomfortably in the love seat. While he really appreciated what the CIA did, putting them up in this hotel room so Heero could recover with him instead of in the hospital, he couldn't help feeling trapped. They were relocating all of his things with Hilde's help right at that moment. Thank God for Hilde, trashing all his drugs before the CIA started packing up his belongings and moving his entire life to some "safe and secure location."

Chang had eventually told him that this whole thing was in relation to his last assignment and some gang boss Heero took down. That Heero would be off any assignments until after the trial. If they could find him in a city half a world away where he had absolutely no connections, then they could probably find him anywhere.

And while that was all good, for the most part, Duo didn't really _want_ to be relocated. And despite his deep feelings for Heero, he didn't really know if he _wanted_ to be with him long term. They'd had a nice week together, and a couple months of friendship before that, but now his whole life was going to have to change for the guy. And all he wanted to do was get high as fuck to deal with the stress of the whole damned situation.

Which made him wonder – what, was he just going to go to rehab and start living the quaint life of a house husband? It wasn't like he hadn't tried to get clean before. Things could be great and it would be easy to stay away from heroin, but as soon as things got difficult – which inevitably they did for him – the cravings overwhelmed him and he found himself doing damned near well anything to get a fix. When he thought back to all the other times he'd tried to get clean, he realized how hopeless the whole thing was and that only made his current cravings worse.

Luckily he was relieved of his spiraling thoughts by Heero stirring on the bed. He'd only woken up a few times and for only a half hour or so at a time so they really hadn't gotten much time to talk. Especially since they were just moved to this room only a few hours ago.

Heero's eyes fluttered open and he was immediately greeted with Duo's concerned face hovering over him, his hands wrapped around one of his own. He recognized they weren't in a hospital any longer... and then the memory of being moved to a hotel resurfaced and he began to relax.

"How ya feeling?" Duo asked softly, squeezing his hand and leaning over to brush a kiss on his forehead.

"I am so sorry you got dragged into this," Heero said instead, not really feeling like discussing himself when he had so wrecked Duo's life. He was only supposed to be a temporary fling. Despite how deeply he felt for him, he knew it couldn't be permanent, knew he'd have to return to work before he could properly establish a long term relationship with the other man.

Duo shrugged, feeling selfishly glad that Heero realized what an inconvenience this was to him. "Kinda the story of my life," he admitted. It wasn't the first time he'd had to pack up and move under the cover of darkness. He'd managed to escape an abusive ex all on his own, without the CIA helping him. He'd make it through this.

"Shouldn't have to be," Heero replied, irritated. He felt sore. Useless. Sorry. Guilty. A lot of things he didn't like to feel. There was no way he could repay Duo for this. No way. If he hadn't thought to call Chang... "Hey. What made you call Chang in the first place?"

Duo wanted to evade the question he knew was coming sooner or later. He stood, crossing the room to pick up the room service menu before heading back over to place it in Heero's lap. "Pick something. I'll call it up in a minute."

Heero stared at Duo, unable to believe he would so blatantly ignore the question. Was he going to have to perform an interrogation? "Okay. But what made you do it?"

Duo sighed and stalked back across the room, crossing his arms over his chest and staring out the window. "I thought you fucking left me, okay?" His words were angrier than he'd intended but with everything he'd been through those past few days and the burning desire for a hit he couldn't keep it out of his voice. "I thought you fucking just walked out and left me. And poor, pathetic Duo, couldn't help himself, had to see you again, had to get high 'cause I can't deal with shit."

"Oh." Heero stared at the menu in his hands, unable to make out any of the words although he wasn't really trying. He knew what Duo meant. He knew the implications. He knew Duo painted him, locked up in that basement. He couldn't refute Duo's ability now. But he also couldn't really believe it. He didn't know what to say. Or what to think. He felt like his destiny was not his own, that there was no way they could've avoided this whole fucked up situation. And that pissed him off.

"I can't do this." Even to Duo himself, he sounded distant and far away. Small. Scared. "I can't fucking be with you, and get clean, and become some perfect thing, some upstanding citizen," he rushed out in one breath, amazed he managed to keep his voice from wavering. Duo noted out of the corner of his eye that Heero was trying to stand and despite wanting to be on the other side of the world from that man at that moment, he couldn't help but turn around and rush to him, pushing him back down into the bed gently.

Heero took that opportunity to grab his t-shirt and pull him down into a gentle, lingering kiss. He was pleased that Duo melted against his lips, sitting down on the bed next to him, cradling his head in his hands and kissing him back tenderly.

"I know you didn't plan on making me into some kind of forever," Heero stated bluntly when they finally pulled away. "I'm pretty fucked up in my own right and I wasn't looking for something long term anyway. But maybe we can still just enjoy each other while I'm stuck here...?" The hopeful note on the end of his question disgusted him a bit, but there was nothing he could do about it after the fact.

"Yeah, that'd be okay," Duo replied with a little smile before leaning in to kiss those warm lips again. He really was a handsome man. And a wonderful kisser. And they had a certain understanding between them that couldn't be understated.

"Did you ever destroy those paintings?" Heero asked as he drew away, concern evident in his tone. The idea of a bunch of CIA agents pawing through a ton of paintings of him in Japan and all number of other places while they relocated Duo's things was a bit more than he wanted to think about in terms of damage control.

"Yeah, I whitewashed most of them after I met you," Duo confessed, feeling a twinge of regret in his stomach. He hadn't really wanted to do it. Eight years of paintings he'd stared at for so long – gone. But he knew he couldn't keep them around and compromise Heero. "The few I kept are close-ups, no location details.

Heero allowed himself to breath a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

"No problem." Duo tried to be nonchalant, but he stared at his hands in his lap and his pot-marked arms, showing some wear and tear, and he felt anything but. "Don't need any _more_ reminders of a bunch of bad drug trips anyway..."

Heero stroked his bangs for a minute, studying his face carefully. "Do you ever think about getting clean?" He noted the pained expression that crossed Duo's face and he wasn't sure if it was because he was embarrassed or because he was craving it at that very moment.

"It's hard to feel the way I feel right now," he admitted. "Don't know what I'm gonna do in that ivory tower."

"It's not like that," Heero replied. "They'll leave you alone, mostly, if you follow their rules." He paused, unsure, not wanting to press the other man into anything he didn't want. "But if you wanted to, they would help you, if I asked."

For a brief moment Duo felt a flutter of hope and he looked at Heero with wide, surprised eyes. But then it clamped down on him and he shook his head. "That'll be the day." He rolled his eyes, unable to look at Heero again, afraid of disappointing him. "It's not that easy."

"I'm not your keeper," Heero told him sincerely, reaching for one of his hands and holding it kindly. "You have to do what you want to do. I've seen a lot of druggies, and you handle it better than most. But if you want to, there are steps we can take. That's all. Just wanted you to know."

"We?" Duo asked hesitantly, daring to meet his eyes from underneath his bangs, genuinely confused. It wasn't a pronoun anyone typically associated with him. It clearly took Heero a minute to figure out what he was asking.

"We," he finally replied firmly. "Maybe I won't ever be your husband, or even a long-term lover, but don't think I don't know what you've done for me. _Everything_ you've done for me. Part of me will always be with you. Whether I want it or not." Heero chuckled shortly, thinking of the paintings, the way they were tied together against their wills. "But I'll always be here for you. No one was ever there for me – until you. And I _want_ to be there for you, too."

And then Duo was kissing him, hard, trying to be gentle with his sore and recovering lips but unable to restrain himself in his sudden burst of emotion. It had never seemed like anyone really wanted him before, wanted to be there for him. Maybe they wanted the sex, or to have a pretty thing on their arm, but not _him_. Not genuinely. Not in such an unselfish way. It seemed so easy to disregard his fears now that Heero was awake, talking to him, saying such sweet things... Making him feel safe again.

Heero fought to catch his breath against Duo's passion and he couldn't help but wish that they were in this hotel for other reasons, that he wasn't just recovering from a harrowing, painful near miss with death. "You're impossible," he muttered teasingly. "There's no way I'm going to be able to withstand this bed rest."

"Beds aren't for resting," Duo grinned helplessly.

"Not when you're around," Heero agreed, leaning in to kiss him again.

Duo drew away with a coy smile. "But seriously," he said, "before I can't help myself, pick something to eat. I've never had room service before and the CIA is footin'."

Heero allowed himself a little smirk at his friend. His _friend_. The first real friend he ever had.

He didn't know what the next few months would hold. Even if their relationship fell apart and didn't work, they had been friends. Duo had taught him how to love. And it was a lesson that would never leave him.

His smile widened unrepentantly as he stared at the other man who blushed a little and grabbed the menu out of his hand, waving it in his face.

"Okay, okay!" he agreed, leaning over to grab it and place a kiss on his cheek.

No. He could never forget this.

* * *

Whew. Just wanted to say... if I had this to do over again, I might not have even posted this fic at all. There are things I really don't like about it, namely how rushed it is, and there's lots of details I left out, but this was the first longish fic back in the fandom for me so it was a bit of an experiment. Plus I started it for the wrong reasons. When I stumbled upon the beginning of this fic in my folder from ten years ago, there was no drug use. I added that in there as a way to explore some of my own feelings regarding my little brother's unexpected admission to rehab for heroin addiction. I think in the end I made this all too hopeful. I tried to be realistic, but it's difficult when you want a happy ending in real life too. (Not that my brother is doing poorly, quite the contrary, he's actually so much better recently! But the long term outlook for someone in rehab for heroin is apparently pretty poor. It's a lifetime thing, ya know.)

Anyway, that's not to make you feel badly for me or anything! ;-P I just felt the need to explain since I hope to write many, many more fics and I feel this one isn't quite the best example of my writing. I hope you enjoyed it anyway! =P


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